#and roman needed his cage

[failbrothers]

“The Encounter” by Louise Glück

From The Triumph of Achilles (1985)

[wonderpommey]

Kendall doesn’t love Naomi, Shiv never loved Tom, Tom didn’t love Greg, Greg didn’t love Tom. Tom stopped loving Shiv. Connor doesn’t really love Willa (did he even notice her whole face has changed?), Willa doesn’t love Connor. Logan didn’t love his pew bench and most of his pew bench didn’t love him or didn’t have time to stop.

Roman though. 

Roman loves Gerri, Georgia always told us that and when she talks spinoff it’s Colin, Stewey or Roman & Gerri��(and yes, RomanGerri wasn’t Jesse’s, it’s Georgia’s and Tony’s and J's and Kieran’s and Mark’s, but that’s enough!)

From reading around, I think the finale brought home the depth of Roman’s  feelings from seeing him watch her on film reciting a maybe dirty maybe spiritual limerick and fall to the floor with it. He took from her, thinking he was entitled to ask her jump into bed or on that grenade. This spoilt little puppy prince who had never suffered a consequence. He attempted to climb his Everest, locked up in a cage. But as soon as he steps out of the cage at Logan’s funeral and abandons the poorly worn skin of whomever he was supposed to be for dad, and the reality of his feelings and his guilt and his shame hits, he realises he barely deserved to be at her feet. He’s a bruised, hollow prince who ‘knifed’ the only person who had real adult expectations of him (in every sense of the term - the scripts are part of my canon), for a throne he didn’t even want. How could you not break down at that??

And it morphs into a love that doesn’t need anything to feed the flame. No reciprocity, no touching, no comfort. Nothing transactional. It doesn’t even need to be spoken or told. It simply exists, in those jelly glass eye balls. He hasn’t earned it as it disappears behind screens and glass partitions where the adults are. She’s put her shoes back on and she’s walked out of his glass room.

Consuming that love becomes the only thing he can do to feel its burn, to satisfy the craving. He won’t be able to give her slow pleasure or any of his fluids but he can partake in hers in some way. Smart people know what they are and God forbid he sullies anymore of her with the oozing blood at the seam big bag of bullshit that he is. But you better believe he can find a way to have her on his brain, his heart, his tongue, his bloodstream.

He steps out of the cage and bids farewell to the toxicity of denying his own heart, he goes from a cage where he could just take, in exchange for pretending to be someone - no consequences but the occasional beating son I promise, to a world where he’s himself, needy and broken, nothing of value to give. He breaks out but the realisation of having fucked his relationship with her is the price of admission into the real world of his real feelings.

Oh she’d pick up the phone if he called, she’d meet him at the bar (I think he even knows that) but his superego, despite his hysterical cries about how good he looks and you can’t really see how broken he is and that it should be him, has acknowledged the fact that he doesn’t deserve her and wonders why she would take any interest in him if he was no longer this diamond in the rough? Can’t bear her eyes on him, if he’s just the nothing bullshit who fired her and lashed out at her. Which is ironic really because, being mad at Ken’s for his abuse, protecting Shiv, the clarity on his and all of their worth, staying and being the face of the humiliation, signing the deal. These are signs he’s morphing into something with grit, something worthy.

I think. Who knows. It’s day 1. They’re slow but it only lengthens the - excruciating - pleasure. It wasn’t a healthy, happy love story. It was a star crossed First Love meeting Last Love with all the unmatched expectations and maturity it entails, but only they knew it and a few of the people that watch. And really this was the most beautifully crafted thing I’ve ever seen on TV, the depths are almost out of reach. Romey-o Loves Gerri, it’s a feminist show and yes even the fact that Logan didn’t consider his grandkids his bloodline (and of course Roman would hate to have children and of course Shiv didn’t have time to tell him about her pregnancy). All these things are in the show and barely visible and thank god for that. 

And you can wonder why the hell he’s in a bar smiling and crying at his cocktail or you may prefer to read it as being only about his dad or only about his sibs or just the company if you can manage the connective tissue. But to me, yes of course, his last second on screen is him ingesting her in some way. I mean, OBVIOUSLY. It’s not because it wasn’t in your face, that it wasn’t the realest thing, the only true romance this show has indulged.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

THE KNOCKOUT- J. TODD

pairing: boxer! jason todd x fem! reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: jason rewards you in his dressing room for being his "lucky charm" after winning yet another match

warnings: SMUT, HUGEE size kink (jason is 6'5 and well... a boxer), daddy kink, manhandling to the gods, little spanking, praise kink, fingering, 6'5 jason todd on his knees for you, pet names, swearing, violence/ blood, teasing

authors note: this is so self indulgent and i couldnt get the idea of jason todd as a boxer after seeing countless cmpunk and roman reigns edits today (i've never watched WWE a day in my life but good GOD they are fine)

yes i wrote this in one sitting... i needed jason todd NOW!

Jason knew the effect he had on you.

And god, did you hate it.

He was so cocky, so fucking arrogant it sent smoke spew out your ears. Which in turn, spurred him on even more.

You liked him- and that alone was his championship belt.

He flanted it proudly, knowing he was the one who had managed to tame the firecracker that was you- when he found himself between your legs.

Jason Todd had taken on hundreds of opponents in the ring. He had smashed their faces to a pulp, knocking teeth out- rattling their rib cages against the ring ropes with so much power it’d send your feet swaying from where you'd watch on the stands. He was massive, a 6’5 purebread of pure muscles, tattoo ink swirling across his body.

And he looked so fucking good it hurt.

You didn't know why, or what exactly turned you on seeing his fists bloody and bruised as he smashed a man's face in- but it got you going.

Friends with benefits was an understatement, and an overstatement for the predicament you had found yourself in. Were you his friend? No, probably not. But did you have benefits? Plenty.

It had expanded to you showing up at all his practices, his training sessions and his fights.

And he always won- claiming it was for you. That it was because of you.

You couldn't even remember how it had started. He had caught you staring one day, watching him roundhouse a punching bag so hard it nearly swung off its chain.

It had been a few days of that, a little peek here and there, until he had approached you. Saying he needed a good luck charm, a little pick me up before his matches, shooting you a flirtatious wink before he was off.

And you had been obsessed with him ever since.

His little bird, he called you- always getting your feathers ruffled.

You never wanted to give the satisfaction to a man that he possessed any means of power over you. You were independent beyond belief- and a man had never had you in the literal chokehold Jason did.

But you couldn't help but clench your thighs together as he stood, sweat sheen across his muscles as he lifted an arm in triumph, another win for him. His eyes instantly met yours, deep and heavy eye contact that was filled with so much heat it sent a shiver down your spine.

He spit down onto the floor, brushing some blood that trickled from his nose- the few punches his opponent was able to get in before he was on the ground.

You bit your lip, quickly darting through the cheering crowd, avoiding sticky patches of beer and sweat. Making a beeline for the backstage area, you took a deep breath as you steadied yourself against the cool concrete bricks, waiting outside his change room.

Before you could make sense of your thoughts- turned on at the sight of him, while also worried about his nose, he appeared.

Full of that cockiness. Fuck.

“Hey sweetheart. Enjoy the show?” You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself off the wall to get close to him, going on your tiptoes to brush his bruised cheek softly. You tried not to notice the fact he still had to crouch down just a little, so you could tend to him.

“Your face… Jay, this doesn't look good.”

Now he was the one to roll his eyes, a playful grin plastered on his face. “Little bird, m’okay. I just let him get in a few swats to make it fair. And because I adore when you play nurse, like you are right now. It's cute.”

“I do not play nurse-” Your words were cut off as he swept you up over his tattooed shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes, giving your ass a gentle smack.

“It's super sexy too.” he ignored your comment, carrying you into his dressing room and locking the door behind him.

“Jay put me down right fuckin now.”

“What, you not enjoying the view up there? Cause I sure am.” he turned so he faced the mirror, admiring your ass in those jeans that hugged your curves just right, giving it another smack- this one louder then the last.

“I thought you liked that shit yea? Like being manhandled? Cause you’re such a little dolly next to me, it's too easy not to just use you how I want.” he smirked, plopping you back down on the ground, and turning you to face him in the mirror.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you met his gaze in the mirror, eyebrow raised. His words rang through your ears, making your skin feel like it was on fire. “You’re cocky.”

“But you like it. You like anything I do. Even when I’m punching some man's face into pulp. You dirty, dirty girl.” he cooed, large arms wrapping around your middle, and you couldn't help but let yourself be coaxed by him, protecting you from the world.

Here, it was just the two of you. He could take care of you- and you'd let him without much of a fight.

“Can I thank my good luck charm now? My sweet girl, for letting me win?” he whispered, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek, eyes never leaving yours as you nodded.

You needed him. Bad.

“Yes Jay.”

“Tsk tsk. That's not my name sweetheart.” he smiled, fingers unbuttoning your jeans, tugging down your fly. Foreplay wasn't needed. He knew that as much as you did. He could practically smell the arousal rolling off you in waves, the second you walked into the arena.

“Yes Daddy.” you whimpered and he cooed, smiling as he tugged down your jeans, kneeling on the ground for you, helping you find your balance as you stepped out of them.

“Such a pretty pussy.” he purred as his finger tugged off your panties, leaving you bare before him. You shivered as he blew against it, gathering the slick on his large finger as he teased you.

“Missed you.” you confessed, gasping loudly as he pinched your clit, plunging his finger into your hole that had previously clenched around nothing- now clenched against his digit.

“Yeah baby? It was so nice of you to come out and see your daddy fight, wasn't it?”

“Mhmm…” you nodded, making him chuckle. You were already drunk off pleasure, his finger pumping a steady rhythm as he stood back up- towering over you.

“Y-you did so well-” you gasped, gripping onto his arm as it snaked around your front, slapping your cunt gently.

“Awh sweetheart. You’re such a kind girl, always cheerin me on. Makin me feel so worthy.” he clucked his tongue, watching in delight as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying your hardest not to cum.

But he didnt want you cumming unless it was on his cock. You groaned as he removed his finger, quickly silenced as he tugged down his shorts and picked you up, arm wrapped around your middle as your legs dangled.

Your fingers gripped his forearm as he entered you, already gargling cockdrunk nonsense. “Shhh baby, stop complainin. You’re gonna get your fix, m’not cruel to you, am I?”

“N-no daddy-oh!” you cried out as he started to pick up a steady pace, cocky smirk wide as ever. The sound of skin smacking could certainly be heard down the hall- and he didn't give a shit. Encouraged it- actually. Letting everyone know you were his.

He never got tired of splitting you open on his cock. You were just so small, so fragile to him- handling you around with ease. “Look how well you take my cock baby.” he whispered, planting a gentle kiss to your head- his thrusts anything but.

“Splittin you in two and you still take it like such a good lil girl for daddy.”

You nodded, eyes turning glossy as he countiuned to abuse your cunt- showing no sign of stopping. “I have to cum please I cant- I cant-”

“You can cum baby, you’ve been so good. M’right here.” he cooed, kissing you again as you came around him with a cry- nails digging into his flesh hard enough to leave crescent moons.

“Atta girl. I gotcha.” he murmured into your hair. “Just let me have my way with cha and we’ll be outta here in no time sweetheart.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

#NEEDTHATBAD #NEEDTHATCOOKIEBADDDD

[spiicii]

the og bloodline  / bloodline property (part one)

jey uso / jimmy uso / roman reigns / solo sikoa x fem!reader  word count → 4k summary → you belong to the bloodline, in every sense of the word. and your job is to serve. links → masterlist / bloodline property (part two) tags → multiple partners, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, hair-pulling, praise kink, daddy kink, possessive behavior, hickies, dom/sub dynamics, vaginal sex, creampie, begging, light choking, crying, overstimulation

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” Jey groaned in your ear, his hands braced on either side of your head as he continued to thrust into you. You opened your legs wider to provide more access, allowing him to grind deeper, the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix. 

Jey always started with you first. He was so good at getting you open and relaxed, so much sweeter in comparison to his brothers. He was always gentle, pressing chaste kisses against your cheek as he made sure you felt good. With Jey, it wasn’t just sex. He wanted to make you happy. Wanted you to enjoy it. 

“You gon’ hurry the fuck up or what?” You heard Jimmy snap, always impatient. 

Jey threw an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Chill out, uce. We ain’t in a rush.”

Jimmy let out a huff, pacing the length of the room in frustration. “You takin’ too fuckin’ long. She needs a real man to show her what’s up.”

Jey curled his lip, a scathing remark on his tongue, before Roman’s booming voice interrupted them. “You'll get your turn soon enough.”

You couldn’t see him, not as Jey kept you caged between his arms, impaled on his cock, but Roman's next words left no room for argument. “Enough with the bickering." 

The twins obeyed, though you could still see the annoyance on Jey’s face as he looked back down at you. 

“Just ignore him, babygirl,” he whispered, peppering your neck with soft kisses. “You know I ain’t gon’ leave you hangin’. You know I always give you whatchu want.”

He always did. 

You felt his hand reach down between the two of you, his long fingers finding that small, sensitive bud with ease. You felt sparks shoot down your spine at his touch, your legs falling open further just so you could feel more. 

He chuckled against your skin, picking up the pace of both his hips and his fingers, pushing you closer and closer to your release. 

He leaned up and brushed his lips against yours. They were soft, his kiss gentle as he continued to fuck into you, his fingers playing so perfectly with your clit that you found yourself writhing against him. 

You threw your head back and searched for Roman, your mouth open as soft moans fell from your lips. 

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, your thighs beginning to shake. “Please, can I come?” 

The Tribal Chief was the only one who could grant you permission and you were pleased when you heard him off to the side, out of your line of vision, say, “You can come, pretty girl.”

The orgasm was perfect. It always was with Jey. Pleasure unfurled from your core as you sank deeper into the mattress, your muscles relaxing as the tension released. Jey wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours. 

“Gonna fill you up, babygirl,” he gasped in your ear and that was the only warning you got before you felt him paint your walls white, warmth spreading inside of you at the feeling. He let out a contented sigh, continuing to press sweet kisses into your skin. 

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he murmured, placing another kiss against your lips. You offered him a lazy smile, your eyes still glazed over from the pleasure he’d given you. 

“Alright, alright, come on, uce. Move it.” Jimmy was already at your side, shoving at Jey in an effort to get him off of you. 

Jey scowled, but he slowly pulled out of you, your body shivering from the feeling of emptiness. 

“Will you chill out for two fucking seconds? Jesus, you act like you ain’t ever gon’ get a turn.” 

“I been waitin’ all day. And I ain’t got time to sit here while you doin’…whatever that was.”

“Man, if you don’t-”

“Enough.” Roman’s voice quickly shut them up. He was used to this. The twins almost always bickered when they fucked you together. It was just their way. They were too competitive. And a little too possessive for someone they were meant to share. 

Jey threw you a cheeky wink before finally climbing off of you, Jimmy already tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling you up to meet him. 

“Been waitin’ to fuck this pretty pussy all day, little girl,” he growled, quickly hauling you to your feet. Jey preferred to fuck you in missionary, his face close to yours so he could kiss you and watch your eyes cross in pleasure. Jimmy, on the other hand, almost always fucked you from behind, holding you out on display for the entire world to see. He enjoyed grabbing you by the hair, your tits bouncing as he pounded into you from the back. 

As he manhandled you into position, you met Roman’s gaze. He was sitting in the chair near the door, watching you with hooded eyes as Jimmy shoved you forward onto the bed, his hands gripping your hips brutally as he lined up behind you. 

The Tribal Chief was generous and usually let his cousins go first on nights like this. He wasn’t hurried, knowing that you’d be begging for his cock by the end of it anyways. You may be Bloodline property, but Roman was the chief. You belonged to him. 

Jimmy pushed into you, his cock thicker than Jey’s, causing your back to arch at the feeling. He let out a chuckle, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “So fucking tight,” he hissed, beginning to pump in and out of you. “You sure you fucked her, Jey?” 

“Fuck off, man.” 

You glanced over and saw that Jey was standing near Solo, both of them watching as Jimmy pounded into you from behind. Solo was always difficult to read, his eyes dark as he stared at you. Had it been a few months ago, you wouldn’t have known what he was thinking. Now you knew that the distinctive twinkle in his eye was lust, the barest, imperceptible tick of a jaw the only sign of his impatience. 

He’d have a turn after Jimmy. That was how things usually went. If the Bloodline was anything, it was traditional. All four men were creatures of habit, which is perhaps why it hadn��t taken long for you to learn their routine, easily falling into their lifestyle. It had been difficult at first, managing all of their varying personalities, their different schedules, but you had learned. 

Now as Jimmy continued to drill into you from the back, the tug on your hair bordering on painful, you were reminded of the very first lesson you had learned with them: you belonged to the Bloodline, in every sense of the word. They had claimed you. Owned you. Body and soul. 

Jimmy shifted the angle of his hips, and you felt stars explode across your vision as he hit your g-spot with devastating accuracy, your knees almost buckling from how good it felt.

Jimmy pulled tighter on your hair and your mouth fell open, soft moans spilling from your parted lips. You heard Jimmy chuckle, his other hand gripping your hip so hard you knew it would bruise. 

“What a good slut,” he snarled, his pace relentless as he bullied you towards your next orgasm. “You gonna come on this dick?” 

You tried to nod but his grip on your hair made it impossible. Jimmy growled, smacking your ass for good measure as he kept up the brutal pace. The roughness of his thrusts combined with his incessant abuse against your g-spot had you spiraling towards orgasm. Again. 

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, meeting the Tribal Chief’s gaze as Jimmy pulled on your hair so hard again tears sprung into your eyes. “Please, can I come?”

Roman’s eyes were dark, his face unreadable as he replied. “Come again, sweetheart.” 

You felt the tension inside you snap, Jimmy wringing the orgasm from your body with each sharp thrust of his hips. Your walls contracted around him, causing him to groan. 

“That’s right, little girl. Imma finish right here inside you. Right where I belong. Fuck!” 

Jimmy yanked at your hair so hard that you were forced to stand, his hands now wrapping around your neck as he pulled you back against his chest. His grip tightened and you felt him release inside you, a new warmth spreading between your legs as he finished. 

The world was still for a moment, your ears ringing like a jet had just flown by, until Jimmy finally relaxed, slowly loosening his fingers from the tight grip he’d kept on your neck. 

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He slowly pulled out of you, and you whimpered, feeling some of his come leak out and trickle down your leg. Jimmy chuckled, pressing another kiss into your hair. This was the only time he was sweet like his twin, the post-orgasmic bliss making him tender and soft. You melted in his arms, allowing him to lay you softly back on the bed. He gently pushed you back against a pillow, his hands warm against your heated skin. “You always so good for me, pretty girl.” 

You leaned into his touch and Jimmy smiled, brushing a few stray hairs from your face. He soon moved away, another hand now on your face, this one much bigger. 

“You feeling good, sweetheart?” The Tribal Chief’s voice was low in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as his breath fanned across your neck. “Need your Daddy to take care of you?” 

You let out a low whine, already reaching out for him, despite the gooey feeling in your arms. You heard Roman let out a chuckle, sitting up against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. You went easily, allowing his strong arms to wrap around you and bring you closer, your legs falling on either side of his hips to straddle him. 

You realized now that things were not following their usual order. Usually, it was Solo who went next, leaving hickies and marks across your neck and chest as he fucked into you. You turned around instinctively to look for him, your brow furrowed in worry. 

“Aw, you worried about Solo, babygirl?” Roman’s tone was patronizing, roughly grabbing your chin to look back at him. “Don’t want him to feel left out?” 

You whimpered as he kept a tight grip on your chin, his eyes blazing with intensity as he looked up at you. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, releasing your chin to cup your cheek. “Solo will get his turn. I just couldn’t wait any longer. You looked too perfect tonight. I just couldn’t help myself…” 

He ran his hands across your body, admiring the way you reacted to his touch, your hips already rolling forward to meet the erection that was nudging against your inner thigh. He allowed you to take what you wanted, sinking onto his cock with ease, your toes curling at the full feeling inside of you. 

“Good girl,” he praised, running his hands along your sides, his face now close to yours as he pressed sweet kisses against your jaw. “You like sitting in Daddy’s lap?” 

You nodded, reaching out to touch the beautifully sculpted muscles of his chest as you began to move your hips, never taking your eyes off his. 

The Tribal Chief was smirking at you, his large hands encircling your torso. “Such an eager slut, aren’t you, baby? Already been fucked twice and you still want more?” 

You rolled your hips again in answer to his question, the feeling of him inside you erasing all thoughts from your brain, bliss overtaking your body. He always made you feel like this, his cock so thick and long that it completely filled you up, hitting that perfect spot inside of you with every thrust, no matter the angle. You could have sworn your insides had morphed to fit him perfectly and he seemed to agree. 

“Just like you were made for me. Such a good girl for your Tribal Chief.” 

Your eyes fluttered at his praise, rolling your head back as he pressed wet kisses to your exposed neck, teeth nipping at the pulse point beneath your jaw. You felt yourself clench around him and he laughed, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass as you began to grind on top of him. 

“You gonna ride me, pretty girl?” Roman’s voice was a low growl, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “Gonna take what you want from me?” 

“Yes, please,” you moaned, grinding further down so your clit could make contact with his skin. “Please, Daddy. I want you so bad.” 

He laughed, the sound rumbling through the large expanse of his chest. “‘Atta girl,” he praised, allowing you to control the pace. “Take what you want. I’m all yours, sweetheart.” 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

You lifted your hips and sank down again, gratified to hear the Tribal Chief make a pleased sound beneath you. You don’t often get him to ride him like this. He’s normally grabbing you and taking what he wants, almost always manhandling you to show off his incredible strength. Seeing him laid beneath you, his arm slung lazily behind his head as he watched you bounce up and down was rare. And you wanted to enjoy it. 

You planted your hands against his tattooed chest, attempting to gain more leverage to lift yourself higher, moaning at the feeling of his dick splitting you open as you straddled him. You picked up the pace, the feeling of him inside you sending tendrils of pleasure shooting across your body. 

“That’s it,” Roman encouraged, using his free hand to keep you steady above him, his touch keeping you grounded. “Don’t hurt yourself now. I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl.” 

You obeyed, slowing your movements, but only a little. You rocked up and down, throwing your head back in pleasure. He made you feel so good. You weren’t sure how it was possible to feel this good, your skin tingling all over, soft pants falling from your open mouth as you rode him. 

“Greedy thing, ain’t she, uce?” You heard Jimmy’s voice somewhere behind you, but you could hardly focus on it, tension beginning to coil inside you for a third time as you took what the Tribal Chief offered you. 

Roman chuckled at his words, watching you with amusement as you bounced on his dick in desperation, chasing your own pleasure. 

“So greedy she needs four men to take care of her, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” 

You nodded at his words though you were having difficulty hearing him, your own heartbeat in your ears. 

Roman growled and pulled you closer, no longer lounging against the headboard as he wrapped his arms around you. This angle pushed him deeper inside and you gasped, stars exploding across your vision. 

He began moving his own hips, thrusting up into you with easy strength, one of his hands tangling in your hair. He was impossibly deep now, and you felt your pussy spasm at the feeling. 

“I know I let you fuck my cousins,” he growled in your ear, your pussy clamping down on him as he thrust into you harder. “But who do you really belong to? Who owns you, pretty girl?” 

You were barely moving on your own now, Roman now fully taking control and shoving his cock deeper and deeper into you until you felt like you might pass out. Still, you somehow found the words he wanted to hear. “You, Daddy. I belong to you.” 

The grip on your hair tightened and you felt his cock twitch inside of you. He was close. And so were you. 

“Please,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. “Please, can I come, Daddy? Please?” 

“Come, pretty girl. Come on your Daddy’s dick.” 

This orgasm was brutal, your thighs shaking in pleasure beneath Roman’s large hands. You felt yourself gush around his massive length, triggering his own finish. You heard him let out a groan, his grip on you tightening as he came. 

He pumped a few more times into you, just to ensure that you took every last drop of his seed, before finally holding you still, his breath warm against your neck. 

“Good girl,” he praised, releasing the grip on your hair and allowing your head to fall against his shoulder. “Such a good slut. You did so well.” 

Your limbs felt heavy, your body now sensitive after three orgasms so close together. You shivered as Roman pulled out of you, more come dribbling out of your leaking cunt onto the bed below. Your breath was shaky, your muscles trembling from exertion. 

“Come get her, Solo. She’s ready for you.” 

You could barely register the Tribal Chief’s words, suddenly feeling your body being lifted off of him and into someone else’s arms. Solo’s arms. You immediately relaxed, nuzzling against his neck, body limp as he carried you. 

He set you down gently against the mattress, propping you up against a pillow before climbing on top of you without much preamble. You opened your eyes to look up at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach as you met his intense gaze. His dark eyes were fiery, his jaw clenched as he looked down at you. His gold chain dangled in front you, glinting in the bedroom light.

“Solo,” you breathed, his name easy on your lips. He hardly ever spoke to you, but you had learned that he appreciated it when you spoke to him, even if he didn’t always show it. You reached up and placed a hand against his cheek, offering him a smile. 

“She looks so fucked out, uce,” you heard one of the twins say. “Think you can get her to come again? She might be done.” 

Solo’s eyes narrowed, the only sign that he was annoyed at his brother’s words. You knew that he didn’t mind fucking you like this, your body soft and pliable beneath his large hands, so easy for him to manhandle into any position he wants.

When he pressed his thick cock into you, you felt your eyes roll back into your head, the feeling bordering the fine line between pain and pleasure. 

He was thicker than all of them and you usually had to take at least one of his brothers first just to prepare yourself. Even now you’d taken three dicks, and you still weren’t prepared for the burn as he stretched you out, small puffs of air escaping from your parted lips. 

Solo let out a low groan as he gave you another inch, his mouth already latching onto your neck as he suckled a bruise against your skin. He loved marking you up, more possessive than either of his brothers. He wanted the whole world to know that you were his, more than happy to mottle your neck and chest with bruises. He finally bottomed out and you let out a whimper at the feeling, the burn at being stretched by his massive girth positively delicious. But he didn’t move. You met his gaze and saw that he was looking at you, almost expectantly. He wanted to hear it. Wanted to know that you needed him. 

“Please, Solo,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “I need it. I need you. Please.” 

His eyes darkened and before you fully realized it, he was pulling out and ramming back in, the thrust sending tendrils of pleasure up your spine as his thick cock massaged your walls. You couldn’t help the embarrassing whine that escaped your throat, overstimulation prickling at your exhausted muscles. 

Solo continued to grind into you, his lips attaching themselves to your neck again, another bruise blossoming beneath his mouth. Solo had always been good at keeping you right on the edge between pain and pleasure, whether it was his massive cock splitting you open or his lips suckling a bruise beneath your jaw. It always left you head spinning, the feeling so euphoric that you almost feel like you’re floating. 

His teeth grazed the delicate skin against your windpipe, and you moaned again, wrapping your legs around his waist just to pull him closer to you. 

“Need you so bad, Solo,” you pleaded, looking back up at him in desperation. “Please, I can’t…I can’t-”

Another one of his thrusts had you whining, pleasure licking across your tired limbs like wildfire. Your nails dug into his shoulder as you pulled him close, the sound of his name leaving your lips spurring him on as he continued to drill into you.

Solo leaned down and you felt his lips ghost across the shell of your ear. “You want me, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice so low that only you could hear. You let out a gasp as he dragged across your g-spot, his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge. 

“I want you so bad,” you whimpered, pressing small kisses against his neck. “Please, I need you. Give it to me, please. Please…”

You couldn’t speak anymore. Not as his hips snapped against yours, tension growing in your abdomen at the feel of him inside you. He reached around and grabbed one of your thighs, pushing it forward to allow better access to your puffy cunt. A strangled moan escaped your lips, and you felt like he was splitting you in half, your g-spot so abused by now that you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. 

You opened your mouth, trying to form the words on your lips, but you couldn’t. Your head felt empty, Solo’s cock pistoning in and out of you with such force that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk again for days. 

“Daddy,” you managed to whisper, your eyes glazing over as Solo grunted, raising up your other leg to push you into a full mating press. A strangled scream ripped from your throat and tears sprung into your eyes. You were completely helpless beneath him now, pinned to the bed beneath his massive weight, his cock feeling like it was sawing you in half. 

The tension inside you was coiling again, but you still couldn’t find the words to ask for permission, your head feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton. There was only one word you could think of. 

“Daddy.” 

You repeated his name like a mantra, your body no longer your own as Solo drilled into you, your legs next to your ears. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” 

You heard the Tribal Chief’s voice and almost wept at the sound. 

“Daddy, please.” You still couldn’t find the words, your eyes unable to focus on anything except Solo’s dark eyes, dangerously close to the edge of your fourth orgasm. 

“Use your words, princess. What do you need?” The Tribal Chief’s voice was soft, and you felt your entire body tense. 

“I can’t…” You gasped, Solo’s face blurring as tears began to fall. “Please…I can’t…” 

“Yes, you can.” Roman’s voice was firmer now, and you knew it would displease him if you came without permission. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.” 

Solo’s hand found your clit and you screamed again, though this time you used your words. “Please, can I come? Please, please, please.” 

“Come, slut.” 

Your vision went white. The pleasure was so intense that your entire body shook, walls spasming helplessly around Solo’s massive cock. You wanted to move, but you were still pinned to the bed, your feet still by your ears as Solo held you down. You were vaguely aware of the sounds you were making, alternating between high-pitched whines and fucked-out whimpers. You might have been embarrassed if it didn’t feel so fucking good. 

“So fuckin’ pretty when you come,” Solo grunted in your ear, finally spilling into you as he chased his own pleasure, coating your insides with his seed. 

You weren’t sure what happened after that. Your vision was blurry with tears, your throat hoarse from your screams. You felt Solo finally release you, leaning up and allowing your legs to fall back onto the bed. You felt his come trickle from your abused hole, all mixed together from the multiple loads you’d taken from his brothers and cousin. 

You felt someone’s lip on your forehead, pressing a tender kiss to your fevered brow. “Such a good girl.” he murmured, his tone soft. “You serve my bloodline so well.” 

_____

next part: bloodline property (part two)

[caramelcleopatraa]

"I want to sit on your face" ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

another porn with a atom's amount of plot

word count: 1,500~

x: !this is not proofread! 😭 please disregard any mistakes <3 I came up with this idea before my current series "suit & tie", but I never got to finish it.... until now 😏 hopefully you guys enjoy this (not quick) quick thing I whipped up.

content: oral ( f receiving )

“Baby…”

“Yes?” Roman responds with curiosity in his eyes. You had been daydreaming about a specific situation. It was almost disturbing the flow of your daily life. Your husband was always up for trying new things. You've brought up ideas to him that have led to countless nights of exhilarating love making. You didn't know why you were so nervous to tell him something so simple. Perhaps it comes with your own matter of insecurities that stopped you from telling him your newly proposed idea. “Nevermind, sorry to bother you.” You turned your back to his desk to walk out of the double doors of your home office. Roman noticed your sudden change in energy and decided to chase after you. His hand gently, but firmly, latched onto your wrist and tugged you towards him. Your back hit his sturdy torso and his hands interlaced with yours. “What’s going on? Y’know you can tell me.”

“U-uhm.. Uh…” Your heart was starting to race and your breathing became heavy. You tried to walk away from him, but you must have forgotten who you married. “Nuh uh, stay right here. Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“Aren’t you in the middle of some work?” 

“Work doesn’t matter when my wife needs me.” He tenderly kisses the side of your neck and his hands rest on your hips. A tactic he used to calm you down when you're nervous. Just as he was about to console you, you spoke up. “Can we try something tonight?” Romans eyes locked with yours and he already knew what you were insinuating. He took your hand and led you upstairs to your bedroom. All of his movements were slow, but sure and tender. All thoughts of work were left downstairs. His focus was on making sure he could make your fantasies come true tonight. He sat on your bed and held both of your hands in his. His thumbs worked over your soft skin as his chocolate eyes looked up at yours. “Alright. What fun things have you thought of to try today, princess?” 

“I don’t know how to say this so that it sounds normal.” You nervously laugh and he joins you in laughter. Still massaging your hands, he says “Well you know i'm not gonna judge you.” “Yeah, I know” You took a deep breath and gathered the courage you needed to say the next sentence that came out of your mouth. “I want to sit on your face. But I don't really know how it’s supposed to work. Like am I supposed to completely sit or ho-” Your body was suddenly caged by Roman’s arms as he pulled you on to the bed. It wasn't long until your lips connected, cutting off your nervous rambling. Your lips danced in an intimate fight for dominance against him, in which you lost. Pulling away from him, you were finally able to get a glimpse of him. His once gentle eyes were low and dark, and laced with lust. He let go of your body, allowing you to rest next to him. He scoots all the way back to the headboard and puts his head on a pillow. He motions you to come over to him and you crawl to meet him.

‘Sit.” He says. You look at him with a surprised look on your face. Again, his hands imitate a “come hither” motion. You slowly straddle his chest and move to hover above his face. His hands dig into your plush thighs as he admires your body from below.

“So umm.. Am I supposed to-”

“Sit on my face”

“Like fully sit?” The tone in your voice shifts to a more confused one.

“Yes mama”

“What if I'm too heavy and you can't breathe?”

“Mama, I wrestle grown ass men for a living. And I'll tap your thigh if I need some air.”

His lips kissed and sucked at the inside of your thighs. “Stop worrying so much. Be a good girl and let daddy eat his pussy.” Soft moans escaped your mouth while he worked his way up your thighs. His thumb creeped up to your aching clit, softly rubbing up and down while continuing to kiss and suck on your thighs. Your head tilted back as you held onto his wrists. You started to grind against his thumb, but Roman grabbed your hips and held them in place. 

“Uh-uh. On my face.” His grip loosened, but his hands landed on your thighs and pushed you down. His arms snaked around your thighs, making it impossible for you to escape if you tried. You didn’t have enough time to process what happened, but a long stripe on your cunt fogged your brain in the best possible way. Once his tongue reached your clit, he planted a tender kiss before sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue. His hands massaged your thighs while he continued to work his magic. He rotated between teasing you with long stripes up your cunt and ruthlessly abusing your clit. 

Roman’s grip on your thighs still restricted much of your movement. You tried your hardest not to grind against his tongue, but the way he was eating you up made it damn near impossible. His hair laid sprawled out on the pillow below him. His right hand let go of your thigh and quickly slapped your ass, startling you and causing you to jump. “Fuck baby,” You moaned, loving the temporary sting on your ass. After a couple more slaps to your ass, his hand returned to its original place, hugging your thigh and holding you in place. His eyes would remain on you and momentarily close while he relished the taste of your pussy, and the loud slurping sounds he was making added on to your arousal. 

You finally succumbed and softly grinded on his tongue. A salacious moan from him vibrated your clit. In return, your moans started to get louder. You tilted your head down and locked eyes with your lover beneath you. You placed your hands on his while you continued to ride his face. You could see droplets of your juices running down his face. He gives you three taps on your thigh and you immediately rise off of his face with concern. He takes a couple of deep breaths while still keeping his hands on you. “I’m so sorry, did you not want me to do that? i’m sorry i got carried away-“

You take a moment to look at Roman. His beard is littered and decorated with your juices and he keeps eye contact with your pussy the entire time he wasn’t devouring you. “Just need a couple of breaths mama. That’s all,” He says, his eyes finally meeting your beautiful ones. The collective heavy breathing occupied the silence for a couple of seconds before you felt those same hands pulling you down to his mouth. “Don’t mean i’m done. C’mere, need to eat that pussy,” He says, before you’re forced to sit on what will be your new favorite seat. Your consistent babbles and whines only made him harder, making him eat your pussy like a starved man. He loves taking care of his baby. Whether that’s pounding you into the mattress or eating you out until you drench the sheets, it was his favorite thing ever. Seeing you lose your mind because of the things he does to you makes him so ecstatic. 

“Got me addicted to this pussy.” He knew that you loved it when he talked you through it. Every chance that he got, he was gonna talk his shit, and it never failed to make you weak. “aah- oohhh shiiiit daddy you finna- ffuuck make me cum.” He moans into your pussy, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips were moving nonstop and you couldn’t stop calling his name. You pried his fingers off of your thighs and intertwined his fingers with yours. His arms were still hugging your thighs in place, and yes, you had the headboard to hold if you lost balance. You wanted to hold him instead. “Ohh myy goddd, daddyy. I’m cummin,” You said, slurring your words due to your mind fogging orgasm. Your movements became uneven and Roman’s hold on your thighs tightened to keep you in place. You let out screams of bliss while Roman lapped up your release, while any remainders he missed landed in his beard. Roman’s hands roamed your lower body as low whines escaped your mouth. He pushed up your hips a little to plant loving kisses on your pussy. “How did I do?”

“Fuck, that was amazing,” You said between ragged breaths. Roman’s deep chuckle vibrated through your body, adding to the intimate atmosphere. You attempted to lay next to him but his hands dug into your skin, preventing you from moving.

“I’m still hungry mama.”

finished this while I was at work :p (so happy that I work at a family business or I would've never finished this today)

🏷️ tags :) @harmshake @jeyusos-girl @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede

~ your hippie author

[tribalmajesty05]

Title: French Whispers

Roman Reigns X Reader

********

It was a quiet Sunday in the Anoa’i household, the kind of day Roman—Joe, to you—treasured more than any spotlight or title belt. Sundays were sacred: no WWE tours, no interviews, no schedules. Just you, him, and the kids basking in the warmth of home.

The smell of breakfast lingered in the air—eggs, bacon, and croissants you’d baked from scratch. The kids were sprawled across the living room floor, their toys creating a colorful battlefield. Joe sat on the couch, watching them with a soft smile, his arm draped lazily over the backrest.

You were in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you tidied up. The sun filtered through the windows, casting golden streaks across the tiled floor. With a mischievous grin, you glanced over your shoulder at Joe.

“Tu es si beau ce matin, mon amour,” you said softly, your voice just loud enough for him to hear. (“You look so handsome this morning, my love.”)

Joe’s head tilted, his brow quirking as a smirk tugged at his lips. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, turning back to the sink.

Joe didn’t need a translator to know you were up to something. He’d been with you long enough to recognize the playful glint in your eyes when you spoke French. It was one of the many things he loved about you—how effortlessly you switched between languages, your Monaco roots adding an elegant flair to your every word.

But when you spoke French to him? That was his weakness.

A few moments later, as you walked past him to grab a toy from the floor, you leaned down and whispered, “Je t’aime tellement, Joe.” (“I love you so much, Joe.”)

His jaw tightened slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. You suppressed a giggle as you walked back to the kitchen, feeling his eyes follow you.

The game was on.

Throughout the day, you found little ways to sneak in more French. When he helped you fold the laundry, you’d brush against him and murmur, “Tu es irrésistible.” (“You’re irresistible.”)

When he carried your youngest to her nap, you called after him, “Quel homme merveilleux.” (“What a wonderful man.”)

At lunch, as you set his plate in front of him, you let your fingers linger on his shoulder. “Merci, mon roi,” you said with a teasing smile, knowing exactly what calling him “my king” would do. (“Thank you, my king.”)

Joe’s patience was impressive, but even you could see the cracks forming. The way his hand clenched around his fork, the deep breath he took as he rubbed the back of his neck.

By the time the kids were upstairs, busy with their tablets, you knew you had him teetering on the edge. You were in the kitchen again, tidying up the aftermath of lunch when you felt his presence behind you.

“Okay,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

You turned, pretending to be surprised. “What’s wrong, Joe?”

He stepped closer, his towering frame blocking you against the counter. His hands came up, caging you in as they rested on either side of you.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his eyes dark and intense.

“Say what?” you asked innocently, though the smirk tugging at your lips gave you away.

“Anything,” he murmured, leaning down so his nose nearly brushed yours. “Anything in French.”

You let the silence stretch for a moment, watching how his gaze dropped to your lips. Finally, you whispered, “Tu es à moi.”

Joe growled low in his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “And what does that mean?”

“It means,” you said, your voice dropping to a sultry tone, “you’re mine.”

Before you could say another word, his lips crashed onto yours, stealing your breath in a kiss that was equal parts passion and punishment. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t bear even a sliver of space between you.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your fingers clutching the front of his shirt. His forehead rested against yours, and his smirk was pure mischief.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he murmured, his voice husky.

You grinned, brushing your lips against his. “Je t’attends, mon amour.” (“I’m waiting, my love.”)

Joe shook his head with a soft laugh, his hands sliding to your hips. “I don’t even know what you just said, but it sounded dangerous.”

“It means I’m waiting,” you teased, your voice light and airy.

Joe groaned, resting his head on your shoulder for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to your neck. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Damn right, I do,” he replied, pulling you even closer.

Sundays were sacred, but this one? This one might just be his favorite yet.

[janiehellion]

Fallen From Grace

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Caught between a loveless marriage and a past you can't forget, you return to LA, the City of Angels. As old flames rekindle, you're faced with the consequences of your choices. Would you still make a decision that could destroy everything you've built over the years to experience the emotions you've longed for? “For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.” (Romans 7:19)

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM!READER

��ᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HURT / FLUFF / ANGST

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.277

MASTERLIST

With your hands deep in the pockets of your jacket, your face buried in a thin scarf, and the warmth of your breath that was soaking into it, it was making you shiver, and your thoughts were thrown back to the ritual of smoking a cigarette. The need to smoke bit into you; thinking of lighting one was still addictive and punishing at the same time. It had been years since you quit smoking, right before you got married to your husband, because he had always hated the smell. Still, your husband was behind you and always had your back regarding your decision to turn your life around, and he became a shoulder to lean on in the change from a reckless young adult into a now responsible and mature woman.

But lately, this routine that you once liked so much seemed to turn into a cage with no way out. The fights with your husband had become more frequent, and his constant work stress added more to the high tension between the two of you. You both were too tired to talk openly to each other anymore and with the same empathy that used to exist. Last night was pretty much no different. A silent dinner, a few short words exchanged between the two of you, and some annoyed glances at each other, until he then got up and went to his laptop in the living room, while you went to the bedroom to read one of your books.

It was days like this, where you felt overwhelmed by your life, that your mind began to wander back to him, to Lucifer Morningstar. You had left Los Angeles almost ten years ago to chase your dreams, leaving him and everything else behind after you came to the realization that it felt more like a simple friendship to you, which had scared you more than it should have. Although you had kept in touch by texting each other every now and then, you hadn't talked to or seen each other in years.

The sun was now setting as you got into your car, and you knew that the decision to visit the City of Angels once again came from some deep, restless part inside of you, and you convinced yourself it wouldn't be a mistake before sliding off your wedding ring and letting it fall into one of your pockets.

Suddenly, a message from your husband appeared on your phone. Apparently, he won’t be home for dinner tonight. He was staying out late with a colleague. Relief washed over you as you replied with an excuse about having decided that you were going out with your best friends anyway before you set the car in motion and headed towards Los Angeles.

A few hours later, you saw the familiar evening lights of what you once called home. You aimed for the LUX, the spot that Lucifer owned. Soon enough, your eyes scanned the room, looking for the one person you hoped to see as you exchanged a few words with familiar faces, but your mind was solely focused on Lucifer.

And there he was. The presence of him hit you hard—the lights, the music... It was overwhelming, and you quickly made your way to the bar, where you sat down. The face beside you? Familiar. She hadn't changed a bit, still looking fierce and gorgeous.

Maze immediately looked at you, recognizing you quickly. "There's no way... is it? Is it really you?"

"Hello, Maze," you said, nodding in her direction and smiling at her.

"It’s been a while! Ten years?"

"Close enough."

She whistled. "Lucifer’s going to freak out when he sees you; you know that, right?"

You smiled again, taking a sip of the drink that she handed you. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know. Probably around somewhere and probably smoking."

Your heart raced as you tried to control your excitement and nervousness. You sipped your drink further, trying your hardest to distract yourself. Then the door opened, and you felt that familiar presence. The smell of cigarettes and cologne hit you, making you grip your glass tighter.

"Now, look who’s graced us with his divine presence," Maze announced almost sarcastically.

You turned around, and there he was—Lucifer Morningstar. His eyes met yours with shock before he tried to hide it like usual. He wore his trademark suit, the one that always made him look like he owned the world.

"What in the world are you doing here?"

"Hello, Lucifer. Have you lost your manners in the last decade?"

"I just didn’t expect you."

"You didn’t have to. I just stopped by."

Lucifer only grunted and sat down next to you for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. He took a whiskey Maze handed him and sipped it, his silence speaking volumes.

"I just needed to get away, you know," you started, but trailed off, knowing he would see right through you.

"Finish your drink. I don’t want to talk here."

You nodded, finishing your drink quickly. Lucifer was tapping the counter impatiently, and Maze gave you a knowing look as you left. "Good luck, babe," she mouthed, winking at you.

You followed Lucifer into the elevator and then to the parking lot. Right now, his attitude annoyed you, since he used to be so different with you back then, and as soon as you were outside, he stopped and turned around to you.

"Where's your car? I will hold the door open for you."

"What? Excuse me, please? What did you just say?"

He only smirked slightly instead of answering you as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. So you approached him slowly, placing a hand on his arm and feeling his muscles through his suit.

"I just thought you might want to see me again," you said softly, looking down to the ground.

"Do you think I’m not happy to see you?"

"The way you’re reacting right now, wanting me to get into my car and leave? No, not exactly."

"I just didn’t expect to see you again in LA. You simply surprised me."

You continued holding his arm, squeezing it a bit. "I simply missed you. Is it that wrong?"

"Your fault," he mumbled, finally lighting a cigarette. He took a drag and offered it to you. "Want one?"

"No, I quit years ago, don't you remember?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And do you still always do what your boyfriend wants? Do you follow his rules? Do you obey him?"

"Don’t be an asshole, Lucifer. It’s just complicated, okay?"

He handed you the cigarette anyway, and with a sigh, you took a drag. He leaned against your car, looking out over the city. The lights of Los Angeles twinkled like a thousand little stars.

"You’ve changed," he said after a minute, watching you from the corner of his eyes.

"I never changed. I grew only up."

"No, you’ve changed."

"I’m still me, just... older."

You stood in silence. Lucifer had always been a man of few words around you, but he said so much merely by being there.

"Why didn’t he come with you?" he suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

"He’s busy, working on a case."

"How did you end up with a lawyer, I wonder?"

"If you knew him, you’d understand. He’s dedicated, passionate, even."

"He took you away."

"I know. And that wasn’t my intention."

"Aren’t you here to find yourself again?" Lucifer asked, looking at you for a moment.

"No…"

"Then why? Tell me."

"I'm here because of you, Lucifer. I needed to talk. To feel at home again."

"You can't just show up out of nowhere and expect everything to be the same as it was before."

"I did it without thinking."

"You, who plans everything down to the last detail, doing something spontaneous?"

"I just wanted to see my best friend again."

But Lucifer was right, and you knew it. It was strange to be back in Los Angeles without having really thought about it or thought of any consequences. But the feeling you had in your soul blurred every logical thought.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and walked you toward his car.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" You asked, but didn't fight him.

"It's a surprise. Just wait and see."

"A surprise? What's the plan?"

"Be quiet and sit tight." Lucifer grinned as he started the car.

After the silent ride in the car, you reached the outskirts of a familiar area, where he soon led you through a wrought-iron gate to a small, charming house with a great view of a lake. The very first things that caught your eye were a marble kitchenette and a leather sofa facing a TV that was mounted on the wall, but most especially so, the floor-to-ceiling window leading out to a terrace and the lake that looked nearly as big as the house itself.

"Is this a new place of yours?" you asked him.

"Yes, indeed, it is," Lucifer confirmed with pride. "But that is not the actual surprise. Follow me." He guided you out onto the terrace. "It's a little dark already, but can you recognize the view? Do you remember it?"

You furrowed your brow, following his gaze, and gasped as you finally realized and remembered. "Is this the place that I think it is?"

"Yes, the very spot where we spent that beautiful evening," Lucifer confirmed. "I simply thought you might appreciate the nostalgia and that I bought this place in the end."

"But how did you manage to rebuild all this?" you asked, quite overwhelmed.

"Hard work and a bit of devilish charm," he teased, turning to face you and smirking at your reaction.

You remembered that night clearly—with just Lucifer and yourself—when you were talking about your dreams and your future under the starry sky.

"This is incredible! I'm so happy for you, Lucifer," you admitted, though tears were forming in your eyes.

"You're happy for me because I bought this place?" Lucifer's eyes softened, searching for yours while he asked. "Then why do I think there's more to it than that? More than simple happiness?"

You turned away from him, blinking back tears. "Forget about it. I'm sorry; I didn't want to ruin your surprise."

Lucifer closed the distance between you quickly; his face was serious but still calm and composed. "Will you tell me why you really left back then? I don't really believe that your boyfriend could hold that much power to rip you away from everything that was so loved by you."

"You know exactly why I left," you finally said, looking at him again.

"Sure... Of course, I do. Because I always do." Lucifer answered with disappointment in his voice.

You nodded slowly, biting down on your lower lip, unsure how to proceed. "I think that I probably should go home," you whispered, the guilt creeping in, just wanting to drive back home to your apartment and forget about everything.

But Lucifer clenched his fists. "Perhaps you should, yes," he agreed reluctantly, taking a step closer to you. "But not before this," he mumbled, closing the distance between your lips.

Lucifer crashed his lips onto yours, pushing you back against the patio door. There was no denying at this point—this was so much more than just a friendly reunion. It was bringing back to life a love where the flame had never actually gone out.

He broke away slightly as he led you back into the house, his hands removing your jacket, and soon enough Lucifer loomed over you inside his bedroom, his eyes searching yours for permission and reassurance. You nodded, and he kissed you again—deeply and almost desperately.

His hands were touching your body as his lips nuzzled kisses down your neck, and you could feel your body arch into him, begging for more, which was enough for the two of you to quickly get rid of each other's clothes.

"I can't wait any longer," Lucifer confessed, his eyes locked with yours.

You met his gaze, your heart racing as you nodded, and he smiled, slowly guiding you onto the bed. His touch was almost soft as he positioned you beneath him.

For a moment, Lucifer looked at you, mumbling, "You are more beautiful than ever."

You blushed, goosebumps creeping onto your skin as his fingertips brushed along your collarbone and slowly down your arm until he kissed the inside of your wrist delicately.

"You're exquisite," he said softly before his lips traveled up your arm again, across your shoulder, and onto the curve of your neck.

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, before his lips finally kissed your own. His mouth moved slowly against yours, listening to each sigh that came out of your mouth. You reached for his arms, bringing his hands to your tits, where his fingers gently squeezed them, his thumbs lightly stroking your sensitive nipples and feeling them harden.

Once done, Lucifer's hands went down to your waist, pulling you up to straddle him. He slowly lowered you down onto his cock and pushed himself into you. His eyes didn't leave yours as he moved in very slowly, filling you up completely.

"You feel incredible," he groaned, his hands holding your hips tightly. "I've wanted this for so long."

You began moving, your body slowly going up and down as you leaned forward just a little bit with your hands on his shoulders for balance as you were riding him, and Lucifer's hands slid up your back until he pulled you close, burying his face in your neck.

"You're so perfect," he murmured. "Every part of you is."

You shivered at his words and moaned softly as his hands now moved down to your stomach from your breasts, then back to your thighs, and though the moments were stretching on, Lucifer's thrusts were still gentle instead of fast and rough.

"You're simply amazing," he whispered in your ear. "I want to make you feel everything."

His words only heightened your lust, and you rode him even more eagerly until both of you were breathless, wanting more.

But Lucifer's eyes stayed on your face. "I wish this would last forever," he whispered.

You moaned again and closed your eyes, your body quickening in time with his upward thrusts as you both felt your approaching orgasm.

His thrusts grew urgent, his hands gripping you a little bit harder to guide you through the final moments before you came, and Lucifer's body shuddered against yours.

As soon as your orgasms began to subside, Lucifer's thrusts did likewise. He embraced you tightly, stroking your back, and kissed your forehead softly. "I have missed you more than you know."

You clung to him, your racing heart only now starting to slow down. "I've missed you too," you whispered, your voice shaking, before tensing up as a certain thought inside your head started to form itself, your eyes narrowing.

"Protection! I... I didn't think of—" You started, but your words seemed to be stuck in your throat. "I'm sorry, Lucifer. I should have been more careful!"

"Don't worry about it right now, my dear. Focus only on us. and this moment," he simply answered without any care, but you ignored his words, and just then your eyes fell on something that lay on the ground beside your clothes; his eyes followed in the same direction—your wedding ring, which you had left carelessly in one of your pockets. His eyes went from that ring to you, and only then did he realize what was actually on your mind.

"Wait, wait, wait," he whispered quietly, furrowing his brow as he pushed you off, got up, and picked up the ring slowly from the floor. "You... you're married to him? What? You're actually still with him? Are you kidding me?"

Your face went pale, and you couldn't deny the truth, nor was there any reason to try to lie to him. "Yes, I am, but—"

"But what!" He cut you off. "Is this some kind of devil's bargain? Did you come here to light up an old flame, all the while you're still wearing another man's ring? Is this some kind of sick joke to you?"

"No, no! Listen, Lucifer! Listen to me! I didn't come here to hurt you," you tried to explain, your voice breaking. "I came because I missed you and—"

"Missed me?" He laughed out loud and shook his head. "You come back into my life, get me all worked up, and then this? Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I must be quite the fool for thinking that you actually came back for me after ten years. How foolish I am, indeed."

"Listen! You don't understand! Just calm down and listen to me, please!" you pleaded, your face now red with tears that started to roll down your cheeks. "I never meant for this to happen! You know that! It just happened!"

"Never meant for it to happen?" Lucifer scoffed, anger suddenly giving way to a mocking laugh. "Oh, please, my dear. You do think this is some kind of joke, don't you? Did you come back just to test my patience?"

He turned away from you—his hurt was obvious as he threw your wedding ring across his bedroom. "How very amusing," he said bitterly. "A married woman who seeks out the Devil."

You reached out to him, your voice desperate, but he didn't let you touch him anymore. "Please, Lucifer, don't be like this. I never wanted to hurt you, I promise!"

He turned toward you again. "Don't be like this, you say? What did you expect? Should I just take this as some cruel joke of, what, fate? You think I should simply forgive and forget just because you come at me with a few tears and your excuses?

He had picked up a cigarette from the package lying on the side table of the bed and grabbed a lighter. "Here's a solution for you," he said, lighting the cigarette. "Why don't you go back home to your husband? I'm sure he's just waiting for you to come crawling back into his arms, so you can do what he wants some more."

You winced at the mockery and sarcastic tone in his voice. "Lucifer, please don't—"

"Don't what?" he interrupted you again. "What is it, huh? Don't you want me to remind you of the mistake you've just made? Don't make you face the reality of your actions? Of our... situation?"

He took another drag from the cigarette. "How amusing," he said bitterly. "I've spent most of my time in Hell, and with you, I finally got a taste of Heaven again, only to have it taken away from me in an instant..."

He flicked the cigarette into an ashtray, letting it go out by itself as it continued to burn down. "I'm supposed to be the Devil," he said, his lips now showing a rather sad and hurt smile. "But right now, I feel like I am the biggest fool in all of creation there ever was..."

The silence fell between you, and there, in his eyes, was only hurt, pain, and pure anger.

"I'm so sorry for everything, Lucifer. I never wanted to hurt you, really! Just believe me! Please!" You pleaded and begged.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, his anger now replaced by sadness, especially given the look on his face. "So, now what?" he asked. "What do you think happens to us after all this?"

"I don't know," you said, your voice trembling as you took a deep breath. "I wish things could be different, but they aren't. Believe me, I know this was wrong. I was wrong."

Lucifer took a deep breath as well to try to relax himself and calm down. "Well, wishing won't do anything, nor will prayers," he said, getting to his feet. "And if you want me to be completely honest, then I think you should leave."

You realized you were feeling regret—this was the end of what could have been all along, what could've been all those years ago. "I'm so sorry, Lucifer," you said again, through the tears that were now streaming down your face. "I wish there was a way..."

He smiled at you sadly and shrugged, handing you your clothes. "Here's to the past," he said bitterly. "May it stay there."

You took them from him, brushing your fingers across his while doing so, and began dressing quickly. "Goodbye, Lucifer," you said softly, your voice cracking again.

"Goodbye," he replied as his eyes watched you walk towards the door and into the living room. The taxi was called quickly, and you turned to go out of the front door, but you stopped for a second, turning around to the bedroom door again that he was about to close. "Go on and don't keep the taxi driver waiting."

After he closed the door, you quickly grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note, tears falling onto the paper and smudging the ink. You left it on the coffee table and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind you. The street was already dark, with only a few lights on each side of the road, and you quickened your pace to the main road. After a few minutes, you could finally see the approaching lights of a taxi.

The taxi driver soon enough returned you to your car, which was still parked in the LUX. Once inside your car, you glanced at the time, which was approaching midnight, and then you noticed the three messages from your husband and some missed calls from him that you quickly opened nervously.

9:42 PM: "Where are you? I'm back, and you're not here."

10:39 PM: "When are you coming back? Why don’t you answer? I’m worried."

11:16 PM: "I called your friends, but they said you weren't even with them tonight. What's going on? Please call me!"

Tears silently rolled down your face again as guilt consumed you. How had things gone so wrong? Your life had been perfect—or so you thought all the time. You’d spent the last ten years forgetting about your feelings for Lucifer, pushing them aside, and now, in one evening, you’d destroyed everything.

With trembling fingers, you tried calling your husband, but there was no answer. The worst part of this whole mess wasn’t just that you’d probably destroyed your life, but how little you’d considered the consequences of your actions with Lucifer in the first place. If karma were real, you thought, you’d crash while driving back home. But two hours later, you found yourself standing in the parking lot of your apartment again.

Entering it quietly and closing the door behind you, you saw your husband asleep on the big couch in your living room, his mobile phone still next to him. With one hand, you covered your mouth to stifle a sob, not wanting to wake him up, and you paused, uncertain of what to do, then slowly removed your jacket, throwing it over a chair, and decided to lay down beside him.

You couldn't help but remember how you both had always been a great team, at least at the start of your relationship back then, facing the darkest moments and hours together and supporting each other through thick and thin. He’d always been there for you; maybe he's been too distant at times, but he's been there nonetheless.

And now your endless thoughts about your mistake kept you awake until exhaustion finally took over. Later, when you woke up, your husband was gone. You hoped it had all been a bad nightmare, but the note on the table proved otherwise:

"When I get back from work, you tell me what the hell happened! And don’t even try to call me today! We'll sit down and talk in person."

You stared at the note, rereading it several times before crumpling it and throwing it on the floor in frustration. You grabbed your coat and left, not even bothering to look in the mirror. At the pharmacy, you were quick, buying what you needed before heading back home. Once sitting down on the couch, staring at the morning-after pill on the table, you knew you should take it right away, but something inside you held you back.

Your eyes kept wandering around, seeking distraction, but just as you were about to scream, the doorbell rang, making you jump. You tried to calm yourself before opening the door, but it wasn’t your husband who you thought might have left his keys behind. Standing there was Lucifer, who decided to step inside your apartment without even waiting for an invitation.

"What in the world are you doing here?" you asked, staring at him while closing the front door.

Lucifer pulled a crumpled note from his pocket—the note you had left for him. "Why do I have to read such nonsense?"

He held up the note before reading it out loud.

"Lucifer, the heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? I wish I could."

"Lucifer," you began, but he cut you off.

"Well, isn’t this poetic? The Book of Jeremiah—17:9 to be exact!" His voice sounded neutral, but you could see the fire in his eyes. "I guess the Devil isn’t the only one who’s capable of deceit, isn't he? How charming that you choose to repent now, but I’m afraid it won’t absolve you of the choices you made, my dear... I do admire your attempt at biblical drama! Quite charming, isn't it?"

Your hands were now sweaty, and your heart pounded so fast that you thought it was going to explode. "Lucifer, please..." You managed to whisper, but he shook his head.

"I suppose that’s the true nature of humans, isn’t it? Always seeking redemption when it suits them." His voice relaxed slightly, but the intensity behind it remained, and only then did he grab something from his pocket again. It was your wedding ring. "I’m not a priest, my dear. You know exactly who I am, and I won’t be so easily fooled by your attempts at repentance. I'd say that you owe me more than that."

You had barely started to open your mouth when the sound of keys at the door made you turn around in shock. You looked over just in time to see your husband standing there, his face full of anger and surprise at the same time.

"What the hell is that man doing here?" he asked, staring at you.

"Listen! It's not what you think," you started, but your voice cracked, unable to find the right words to even explain yourself.

Meanwhile, Lucifer gave him an almost bored look and crossed his arms over his chest. "Ah, the husband has finally arrived! How very delightful," he said. "I'm Lucifer, and you must've forgotten about me, I see!"

Your husband glared at him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting to be welcomed with open arms by the man of the hour. But then again, I've never been one to shy away from a bit of chaos."

You took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on the situation. "Listen, we need to talk..."

But your husband's eyes were still on Lucifer, looking him up and down. "About what? How obviously you have been cheating on me?"

You winced at the accusation, but Lucifer merely laughed. "Cheating? Now, that's a rather strong word. I prefer to think of it as rekindling old flames."

Your husband's hands clenched into fists, and he let out a scoff. "You! You have no right to be here. Leave. Now."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, and for a slight moment, he revealed what really lay beneath. "How quaint! I assure you, I'm only a catalyst. Or, let's just say, the devil's advocate, if you will."

Your husband took a step back, his face turning pale for a second. "What the fuck are you trying to pull here, huh?"

Lucifer stepped closer to him, his smile turning into a grin as he pointed to the pill on the table in the living room, which he had noticed all along. "That little token of affection over there might reveal more with its symbolism than you may realize."

The eyes of your husband went to the pill on the table and then back to Lucifer. "What... what do you mean? What the hell are you even talking about?"

Lucifer's smile widened as he leaned forward. "Why don't you take a guess? Or maybe you would prefer to leave it to your imagination?"

"My imagination? You're obviously fucking my wife, and now you are standing here like you have some right to her? As if you own her?"

Lucifer let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, I suppose you could say I am more of an old flame to your dear wife. But let's not get down to the boring details."

Suddenly, your husband stepped forward, his anger overflowing. "Get out of my house. Now!"

"Oh, such a fiery temper. Are you sure you're not harboring a bit of Hellfire yourself?" Lucifer said sarcastically and threw his hands dramatically in the air.

The eyes of your husband widened again, and he took a step back as soon as he could while he looked into his eyes. "I'm warning you. Just leave..."

Lucifer's eyes changed, his stare reaching deep into your husband's soul. "And I assure you that I'm not someone that you want to provoke."

He took a step closer, and your husband's confidence broke down as he looked him in the eyes. "You know what? I'm done with this. I'm leaving! Don't you dare touch me, whatever the hell you are!"

Lucifer's eyes followed him, and he smirked proudly. "As you wish."

The apartment was almost completely silent as the door slammed shut behind your husband, and you stood there, paralyzed, the realization of that moment and what had just happened finally setting in, but Lucifer snapped you out of it as he looked at the morning-after pill on the table once again.

"My dear, really? Do you think that this pill is going to undo what's done now?" Lucifer started. "Do you actually believe that some sort of pill will stop something divine, like... Oh, I don't know, my touch, as an example? I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, darling."

You looked at him with shame, lust, and regret in your eyes. "What now?" You asked him, whispering silently.

"What happens now will be entirely your choice," he said, moving closer to you and stretching out his hand to touch your cheek. "You see, I very much adore you, and I have for quite a while."

His hands were soft but strong, and a shiver ran down your spine. "You can either act like nothing happened, or maybe you can accept it and see where it takes you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "You've got a choice to make."

He stepped closer, his lips touching your ear as he spoke. "You could try to forget about the night we just had, but you and I both know better. The seed has been sown, and the question is, at this point, whether you'll let it grow."

Lucifer took a few steps back and pushed the front door open, just enough to fit through. "Whatever you choose, I will be here, waiting. And trust me," he said with a smirk, "I have all the time in the world."

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Ry’s Requests!

Purpose: Short requests to prevent burnout of my main fics.😒

First Request: @maineventabbey

Theme: Crashout Jey Uso. Jhea if you squint.

The locker room was empty. Silent.

Then, the first crash.

Jey swung the steel chair with all his strength, slamming it into the lockers. Metal clanged, echoing through the hallways. Again. And again. And again.

He could still hear them. The relentless voices. The fans. The critics. The ones who didn’t believe in him. The ones who never had.

“You ain’t beating Gunther.”

“You ain’t world champion material.”

“You just the other twin.”

“You only hot ‘cause Roman let you be.”

“You are NOTHING without the Bloodline.”

Jey hated how much it was getting to him.

He wasn’t supposed to care. He wasn’t supposed to let their words sink into his skin like poison.

But week after week, match after match, the doubt had chipped away at him, tearing him apart piece by piece until there was nothing left but rage.

He swung again. The chair dented against the bench this time. The sound wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

“I CAN DO THIS!” he roared, voice raw, vibrating through his chest.

He slammed the chair onto the floor, the impact rattling his bones. But it still wasn’t enough.

So he dropped it. And started swinging with his fists.

The wall met his knuckles with unforgiving force, but he didn’t stop. Again. Again. Again. Blood smeared across the surface, but he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t stop. His voice screaming.

Somewhere down the hall, Rhea was pacing.

Her phone buzzed in her hand—Roman’s name lighting up the screen.

Roman: It’s bullshit. You know it is.

Roman: That belt is yours at Mania. They are just showing how strong you can be without a title.

Roman: You don’t need a title to define who you are in the ring.

Rhea’s jaw clenched. She knew exactly what this business was. She knew the game. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting like hell.

She had just won her title back. And now? Gone. Stripped away again. Just like that.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to respond, when she heard it.

Screaming.

Loud. Violent.

She snapped her head up, brows furrowing.

Jey.

She followed the sound, quickening her pace until she found a locked door. The screaming was louder now. Wrecked. Agonized. The kind of pain only a fellow wrestler could understand.

She grabbed the handle and jiggled it. “Jey!”

No answer. Just another crash.

Rhea took a deep breath, stepped back—then kicked the door open with all her force.

It slammed against the wall, and she found him.

Jey, fists bloodied, panting like a caged animal. His eyes wild, locked onto the wall like it had personally wronged him. His lips curled back as he threw another punch—

“YOU GON’ GET THIS WORK TOO!”

Before she could think, she moved.

And his fist collided—straight into her stomach.

The impact knocked the wind out of her, forcing a sharp gasp from her lips.

Jey’s entire body jerked back like he had been hit instead. His eyes went wide.

“Oh, shit! Rhea!” His voice cracked. “I—I’m sorry! Damn, I didn’t—”

Rhea gritted her teeth, straightening up despite the sting. “Relax, Jey.” Her voice was steady, but her eyes were sharp. “I’ve taken worse.”

Jey’s hands hovered between reaching for her and pulling away, guilt flashing across his face. His chest was still heaving, his knuckles still bleeding.

Rhea looked at them, then at him. She knew exactly what this was.

She stepped in, placing a firm hand on his wrist. “Breathe.”

Jey blinked at her, jaw tight.

“Jey,” she said again, softer this time. “Breathe.”

His shoulders finally sagged, a long, shaky exhale ripping out of him.

The rage wasn’t gone. Not entirely. But it had shifted.

Rhea held onto his wrist a second longer, grounding him. Then, she nudged his shoulder. “Now, let’s go clean those knuckles up before I change my mind about punching you.”

Jey let out something between a snort and a huff. “Man, shut up.”

Rhea smirked. “There’s the Uso I know.”

And just like that, the storm inside them both settled. Just for the night.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

Story Masterlist

Chapter 14

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Interact with this post to be on the tag list. Read DNI/BYF first.

NOTE: I think we can all agree that Dion deserves to suffer at least a bit <3  (Just a bit <3)

WARNINGS: toxic marriage/relationship, implied toxic family dynamics (both the Agriches and the Reader’s family in her past life),  general yandere themes, obsessive and possessive themes/behavior, jealousy, anxiety, implied/mentioned past child abuse/neglect, mention of murder, implied murder, slight blood, mention of drugs (sleeping pills), mention of past alcohol consumption, mention of alcohol poisoning, implied/mentioned past torture, implied depression (your past life) Please tell me if I missed any.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR REBLOG FANDOM RELATED THINGS (FICS, ART, ECT.) DNI. 

= = =

It’s been two days since Dion Agriche indirectly told you that you’re his and that nothing will ever change that fact. His behavior towards you has also changed - softer, more yearning-like and it does little to ease your worries. If anything, it makes your skin crawl as you question why he’s doing this, why he has changed.

Your anxiety only skyrockets around the red-eyed noble as his presence fills you with abhorrence. 

His proclamations only serve to make you feel like a possession. A pretty little songbird locked in a gilded cage, her ‘Master’ unwilling to set her free. And the reason? To hear her sing until her last breath, voice hoarse and throat bleeding.

His need for… this still doesn’t make sense, deep in the corners of his twisted mind that you’re unable to unravel. However, you’re still sure that, at least part of it is his need to watch your sanity dwindle for his own entertainment and curiosity.   

You grit your teeth before relaxing your jaw. It doesn’t matter if you like him or not - he was still your husband. He still took your virginity, made the marriage official - it would be difficult, no, impossible to get a peaceful divorce due to that alongside the fact he was an Agriche…

No. It would be impossible because it’s Dion Agriche.

… Roxana… would she… consider, at least…?

Sighing, you lean against the terrace railing, the light breeze flowing through your hair. The soft glow of the moonlight casts over the area, dark blue sky filled with twinkling stars that resemble sparkling jewels. Your eyes flutter close as you recall the view back at your parent’s estate.

The crickets chirp and the monster hutches are quiet.

It’s peaceful. 

Until the heavy smell of outside and iron fills your senses, a quick frown tugging at your lips before forcing it away. A headache forms.

“You’re still awake.” 

Well, it was peaceful until a certain sadistic and vile man draped a coat over your shoulders. You didn’t even hear the doors open, too lost in thought. Dion towers over you easily, and his presence is a nuisance. Unwanted.

He left for a mission earlier today yet he’s already back…

The warmth from the coat only makes you shiver, the blasted thing a ‘gift’ given to you by Maria on your wedding day. You frown when the man gathers your hair and brings it out from under the coat's collar, letting it float down over the material. You flinch from disgust, fear still deep in your chest and mind.

You grit your teeth - fear? Hatred? Resentment? You don’t know. However, you’re sure of one thing; 

His gentleness makes you sick.

“And you’re back,” you complain rather than state in a trembling whisper. You’ll never get used to this, to him. His gaze burns, and you’re unable to turn around to properly greet him. Not that you want to - everything about the man was repulsive - his face, his voice, his height, his name, even the color of his hair and eyes.

He makes you sick.

Another soft breeze as crickets chirp into the night. Your gaze travels to the ground - below you, two guards walk while on patrol, their hideous uniforms proudly worn. They look young - most likely in their early to mid twenties. One with dark brown hair and the other dark grey-ish. 

Your husband’s stare burns harsher the longer you look at the two young men. Even so, you don’t look away, even when he moves to stand to your right side, gloved fingers brushing against yours. Like a puppy asking for attention. Despite horror filling your entire being, you don’t tear your gaze away from the two men below you, nor do you stop yourself from moving your hand away from him.

Maybe it was a small act of defiance - aka, showing Dion that you would rather look at any man that wasn’t him. Of course, you’ll come to regret this in the morning, but right now, you crave to interrupt his peace as he had done to yours. Even as your legs begin to buck under your weight.

Ignoring the pressure building in your temples and silencing your gulps, you hope that Dion doesn’t see through you immediately. Annoyance and fear are on the same coin - it’s always flipping, always forced to land on something that breaks you down more and more.

Your mother would have a heart attack had she been here, witnessing her married daughter give more attention to nameless men and not her arranged husband. 

Perhaps feeling eyes on them, both men look up, surprised to see you smile oh so sweetly at them and wave. Ignoring the rapidly forming panic pulling at your heart strings, you watch as they blink before bowing, flustered as light pink spreads across the apples of their cheeks. 

Just two normal men. 

“Good evening, my lady!” They shout in unison. However, when they raise their heads, their cheeks go from pink to pale as their expressions twist into ones of pure terror. The reason is obvious, your husband wrapping an unwanted arm around your shoulders, gloved hand gripping the left one tighter than necessary. You can only imagine the look he’s giving them.

They scamper off immediately, knowing better than to stay longer than necessary, knowing that greeting the Young Master would only aggravate him more, as the guards would get to look at you, his pretty wife, his possession, for longer.  

Quietly, you wonder if he ever debated showcasing his… affection for you in front of others, considering his reputation around the manor. How ruthless he is said to be, detached and nothing more than a sadistic void - one that everyone avoids, a war machine that has no weakness. And yet, here he is - ‘fawning’ over a woman in broad daylight. 

Does he not realize his behavior would make him stick out like a sore thumb? Your thoughts are shooed away when his fingers dig into your shoulder before relaxing. It’s a reminder.

You feel bad now, forgetting for a moment that your husband is possessive.

The incident from yesterday only proved that fact further - your husband had threatened to gouge out the eyes of an unlucky new hire who mistook you for one of Lant’s children. Flowers that were immediately burned, the ‘incident’ was cleaned up quietly and behind the scenes. Without Lant’s knowledge, no less.

Dion brings you back to reality once more as he questions you.

“I’m right here yet you’d rather look at them?” His voice does a complete 180 -  voice once calm now filled with jealousy you can’t begin nor want to comprehend. You don’t respond. You look ahead of you, scared shitless once the reality of what you just had done hits you in full.

Am I trying to kill myself!?

The air feels colder, goosebumps forming on your skin. Despite the coat, you shiver. And while his stare burns hot, your blood runs cold. So close to curling into yourself, you blame the breeze for your trembling body.

It seems that cold sweats are a permanent thing for you now, biting the inside of your cheek as you break out into one. One hand gripping the coat’s labels to hold it tighter against you, your fingers twitch as his gloved hand moves from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, and then up to the base of your head, fingers tangling themselves in your tresses. 

Soft and gentle, it reminds you of the scene where he asked Roxana the location of Cassis’ hiding place.

The memory quickly fades into the background as Dion leans down just enough to whisper in your ear. He’s very fond of doing so, apparently. It’s starting to become a disturbing habit of his.

Your body is becoming accustomed to his hot breath, lying to itself, saying it feels good just so you won’t break out into another panic attack. However, you can start to hear the blood rush in your ears, a small built up tear catching in your lashes. Is this all you’re capable of doing? Crying?

“You never look or smile at me so sweetly.” 

There is some resentment in his voice, but his tone doesn’t drip with it. “But you smiled at two random men who aren’t your husband?” His next sentence almost sounds betrayed, and it’s funny seeing as how your husband had never done a thing to earn your sweetness. 

You can’t find your voice. 

You can’t force yourself to please him, either.

Nor can you turn away and walk into the room, throwing the coat to the floor. 

The only thing you can do is endure. 

And even then, you’re barely holding up.

“Even now you’re trying your best to ignore me.” He sounds tired - he should go to sleep. Go to sleep and leave you alone, like he should, but two days ago he imprinted himself fully onto you. In the most horribly way possible, nightmares slowly become reality as he refuses to set his eyes on another. 

“I never imagined that my wife could be so cruel,” he teases, lips grazing your ear. You fail to suppress the shudder from the physical pleasure it brought. You feel disgusting.

You blink once, twice, before leaning your head away, unable to stand his body heat for much longer. Unable to endure his ‘affection’ for a second longer, shrugging off his arm and the tall man lets you go. Not without an emotion you wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint as it flashes in his eyes before he blinks it away had you seen it.

Your mouth runs before thoughts could form.

“I never imagined that my husband would be so horrible,” you blurt out, wincing once your own words register in your brain after it’s too late. Your heart speeds up. Right hand forming a shaking fist, your nails break skin, the action not enough to distract you. 

Not even when the sore flesh wound threatens to open from beneath the bandages, red soaking through the white.

You made a horrible and dangerous mistake. But it’s too late to take it back, sweat running down your temples. 

There’s a sting in your thumb and a crave for flesh in your mouth. Your toes curl in your soft slippers. The seconds feel like hours, waiting for his response, be it physical or verbal.

“You’re right - not that it changes anything.” He doesn’t waste a breath in agreeing with you.

Without another word, your husband guides you back into the room. He’s behind you, and curiosity has always killed the cat, which is why despite your fear, your shivering figure, you look over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Dion Agriche.

His scarlet eyes glow, the dark circles under them worse than they were two days ago, windblown inky black hair that small clunks of dirt cling to, and smeared crimson blood across his face. When your gaze travels down, there’s also dirt and small specks of blood on his cloak, the article of clothing wrinkled. His sword is still at his hip, sheathed and forgotten.

He didn’t even bother to wash up.

Like the first thing he wanted to do - no need to do was see you. 

The sentiment is lost and ignored as you turn back around. Husband or not, you refuse to see Dion Agriche as anything else but a threat. That’s the only thing you know him as.

Had you looked back, you would have noticed Dion reaching into his pocket only to pull it back out after a thought. He watches as you remove the coat from your shoulders and hang it back up in the closet - out of sight, out of mind.

He hums.

Pointer finger tapping against his pocket, he mulls over whether to give you the small jewelry piece in a little blue box he brought back, knowing it would look pretty on you, bringing out the color of your eyes. He decides not to in the end, knowing you wouldn’t accept it.

That’s usually how it starts.

- - -

“- it’s fine, really. No, no, it’s okay. I don’t mind looking after her for a few more days… Hm? Of course she behaves - (Name) is always a good girl.” 

Your grandmother’s sickly sweet voice travels from the living room into the kitchen where you’re doing your homework. Pencil in hand, you keep rereading the question, only to repeat the process as the printed words look blurred and jumbled together. The grandfather clock goes off, signaling that it’s midnight. 

You pay no mind to it - your grandmother doesn’t concern herself with your sleep schedule. After all, you’re fifthteen; you’re old enough to make your own decisions, to regret your mistakes. It never occurred to her that maybe you regret walking through her doors.

Your grandmother ends the call without asking if you wanted to speak to your dad. 

Not that it matters - he always texts you a ‘good morning,’ at seven-am on the dot. Never failing to do it once, it always brings a smile to your face.

As it should. 

Smiling has gotten harder as of late, however. 

Your grandmother doesn’t say anything as she heads up the stairs, leaving you to your own devices. And you do the same. A mutual agreement between grandmother and granddaughter. Love and affection were a curious and complicated subject. Even between mother and son.

Regardless, you stay in the kitchen, hearing dogs bark outside and beer bottles thrown to the ground, on an average ‘Saturday night’. You scribble something on the paper before erasing it only to repeat it again and again. It’s words you’ll never be able to say, words that you’ll forget once your eyes flutter close once the questions are finally answered.

Your ears perk up at the sound of your grandmother’s T.V turning on, the static disappearing after several seconds. The click of her remote is louder than words of affirmation. 

By the time you solve the third question out of ten, the sun has come up, Sunday morning greeting you.

- - -

“Thank you for inviting me, mother-in-law.”

Maria had invited you for tea in her room, far from any prying eyes. Hana is right at your side, ready to receive any orders that either you or your mother-in-law may give her. Her expression is stern, not an ounce of emotion in those eyes of hers. 

So unlike the Hana that helped you get ready for the dinner with Dion and Lant three days ago. The Hana who showed some level of concern for you, who scolded two other maids while keeping her head leveled and not punishing them, assuming she had the power to do so.

“Oh, it’s no problem - as in-laws, we should bond and spend time together.” Her smile is far too bright and sweet for that… eccentric personality of hers. She continues, “besides, I heard that you were sick after the dinner with Dion and his father. Was it food poisoning?” 

She genuinely looks concerned as she questions you, but it’s Maria; a snake that coils itself around its prey once the opportunity arises. And you’re already on that list, right behind Sierra in terms of ‘affection’ which your mother-in-law confuses for ‘mental torture.’ 

How aware the brunette is of this, you’re not sure. 

“O-oh… I just drank a little too much…,” your chuckle is awkward, eyes landing on your tea cup. Your smile feels strained.

 She startles you with a sharp gasp. Her chair scrapes against the floor as she jumps up from her seat.

“So it was alcohol poisoning? (Name), dear, are you alright?” She hurries to your side like a loving mother, her gloved hands grabbing your shoulders. She doesn’t squeeze them, unlike her son. She doesn’t look at you with a need to own your entire being, either.

“O-oh, I’m fine now, I promise, mother-in-law.” Despite your practiced smile, her uneasy expression doesn’t leave her pretty and soft facial features. Her reaction reminds you of your mother’s the one time you accidentally ate a poisonous plant… wait, no, her reaction was much worse than this. 

She didn’t leave your side for months.

“That Lant-!” You’re caught off guard when she curses her own husband, leaving her ‘unlovable’ son out of it. Like that dreadful sociopath wasn’t there at the scene of the crime.

You blink, unable to form words, watching as her expression morphe into one of frustration only to soften almost immediately when she locks eyes with you. Sweetly smiling at you, she threads her fingers through your hair. 

It feels like she’s trying to replace your mother.

Your stomach twists into a knot, feeling sick. Something akin to disgust settles in your chest.

It is baffling, how she would rather act like a mother towards you, a stranger, rather than her own son. A sour taste forms in your mouth.

“I’m sorry for acting out like that. Lant is usually careful with handing out alcohol - and while Dion can be…careless, he’s not used to drinking with others.” Pigs are flying in your old world, they have to be, because how and why is Maria standing up for the son she never wanted?

“It’s - it’s fine… it’s my fault for going past my limit.” You’re not lying, you really were careless about your intake of the bitter wine. You learned your lesson - you want to avoid waking up with a hangover again…

You want to avoid Dion ‘comforting’ and touching you.

“Still, he should have seen the tell-tell signs,” she sighs before turning to Hana. “What was your name again?” She questions your aide. Your heart drops.

Wait, didn’t she ask that same question to a maid she killed right after…?

“It’s Hana, my Lady.” She bows without a single change in her expression. No twitch of the eyebrow or lips. Completely stoic.

“Hana. What a pretty name. Now tell me, where were you when your Master got drunk?” Her voice is sweet but the question is threatening. Like the weakling you are, all you do is sit, hopelessly praying that Maria won’t lay a hand or harm Hana in any way or form.

“I was tidying up their room on Young Master’s Dion’s orders.” Her answer is direct, not once breaking eye contact with your extremely dangerous mother-in-law. 

So engrossed in their conversation, fear and worry eating you alive, you missed the very important word; 'their.’

“I see. Is Dion your Master?” 

“No, my Lady. I was put under Lady (Name) a bit after she arrived here.”

The interrogation goes on, and every second feels like an hour. The room must be hot since you’re almost drowning in sweat. You gulp as Maria continues.

“By who?”

“Young master Dion, my Lady.”

While her answer should confirm some things, you’re too focused on her safety to soak in the information. Too worried that her head will roll right off her shoulders.

“Dion? I see. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he carelessly gave my precious daughter-in-law such an incompetent maid.” 

SCREECHED!

“Mother-in-law, believe it or not, but Hana has been very helpful. It’s because of her that I’m adapting so well so quickly. You help too, of course.” 

You don’t remember getting up. You don’t remember gently grabbing Maria’s shoulders like a daughter showing affection to her mother. You don’t remember smiling so brightly that it looks genuine, enough so that your personal maid looks surprised, already knowing how much you loathe being here.

“She’s always at my beck and call - ready to serve me in the dead of the night, regardless if I dismissed her for the day. While one could say she would go against my orders in that scenario , personally, I see it as an act of loyalty.” Your words flow out smoothly, like you weren’t on the verge of breaking down sobbing.

You don’t know why you’re standing up for a maid who’s possibly spying on you for either Dion or Lant. A maid you barely know, much less considered as a ‘friend.’ A maid you have only known for a few weeks.

Most likely it’s because you don’t want to be introduced to a new one - it would be a waste of time, really. Hana already knows your habits with her keen eyes and senses. She knows what clothes and hairstyles look best on you. Her tea is delicious. Her excuses worked in your favor.

It would be a waste to replace her with a maid who might not even know what to do. 

That’s all it is.

“So please, don’t blame her - she thought she was doing the best for me, her Master.”

You don’t let go of her shoulders even when you’re scared shitless, worried you crossed a boundary even though she always crosses yours. You wait with baited breath for her response, hoping you didn’t fuck up big time.

“Well,” Maria turns around to face you, removing your hands from her person to hold them instead. “I suppose I can give her another chance. I only want the best for you.” 

After hearing her words, you can only think of and pity your husband. She cares more for a stranger than her own flesh and blood - a child she neglected and left in the hands of a monster who would mold him into a near perfect copy of himself. 

Pushing the thought away, your body relaxes a bit. “Thank you. I’m really grateful for you, mother-in-law.” It’s a lie but as she strokes your hair with tenderness you weren’t aware she could show to anyone aside from Sierra, you almost forget how crazy and brutal she is.

You almost forgot that this woman did not tend to her growing, lonely son as she should have.

“Anytime, (Name), anytime.” 

Your gut tells you that you only entangled yourself with this crazed woman more. 

- - -

“Hana, can you fetch me some sleeping pills? I think I’ll need them…” 

“Yes, my lady. I’ll be back in a moment.” The events that transpired an hour ago aren’t mentioned, both parties silently and mutually deciding that it wasn’t worth it. Which is why Hana didn’t question you once you left Maria’s room an hour later, despite her curious gaze. 

Honestly, you’re still not sure why or how you did it.

With a sigh you kick off your heels once you reach the bed, head low, finding that lifting it would take too much effort. Last night you had to deal with Dion - today, it was Maria. The worst part was that the day hadn't ended yet, but you know for a fact if you didn’t request sleeping pills now you wouldn’t remember until it’s late at night, already under the covers with your dreadful husband.

Landing on your stomach, your body lightly bounces on the comfortable bed. The scent of bergamot oranges soothes your nerves. Relieved, you nuzzle your head into your pillow, finally having a beautiful peaceful moment all to yourself in this fucking psychward.

 The sugary voice of Maria is gone, anxiety about accidentally catching sight of one of her ‘dolls’ is out of mind. Dread that you might run into another one of your in-laws faded away the moment Hana opened the bedroom doors. Also, the fact you didn’t see Lant at all lifts your mood.

Not to mention that your horrible, frightful, perverted, annoying husband was nowhere in sight -

“You seem to be in a good mood.” A boyish voice fills the silence. 

…huh…?

Lifting yourself into a sitting position, legs hanging off the bed, you look towards the doors. You think you’re dreaming, for one, this person just waltzed into the room like nothing, clearly sneaking in right after Hana. The other reason is because the boy with leaves and goo in his hair is -

“Jeremy?”

= = =

Tag list: @tiny-mimi @pix-stuff @umi-adxhira @queenofspades403 @darkumbreon92 @manitscold @puggyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[heavenlytouches]

I saw your Gladiator II posr about Marcus Acacius. Can you do one for emperor Geta? Maybe like, his wife doing his makeup or something? Thanksies much

Hello sweetie!! Thank you so much for a sweet request! Ofc I can, I would love to write something about our ginger boi! I hope you'll like it <3 El <3

Emperor Geta- a crown of laurel

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

FEM reader

<3 (SFW)

TW- none

HUSBAND! Geta

Helping your husband put on his diva makeup

Emperor Geta

You stand in the dimly lit chamber of Emperor Geta, a space filled with opulence tinged with a sense of foreboding. Rich crimson drapes hang from the intricately etched walls, adding to the weightiness that comes with ruling an empire. The air smells faintly of myrrh and olive oil, infused with the tension that accompanies the daily grind of power.

Geta, tall and stoic, sits before a bronze mirror, his ginger hair untamed and wild. The scowl on his face is deep-set, revealing the grumpiness that the empire has come to know, but as you approach, that familiar warmth accompanies you.

You kneel beside him and gently coax his tousled hair into place, your fingers slipping through the strands as you breathe in the earthy smell of him.

“Stop that!”

He grumbles, though the corner of his lips betrays a tiny smirk.

“You’re making me look too presentable.”

“Not possible, my love.”

You respond, a playful lilt in your voice that causes his eyes to soften just the tiniest bit.

“Besides, you’ve got to look magnificent for the people. They expect it.”

He rolls his eyes, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“The people? I’d be better off in the arena with a band of lions than attempting to please that crowd.”

“And yet, you still go out and face them every day. You feel the weight of their expectations, yes?”

“Expectations?”

He growls, his eyes flashing with the familiar fire.

“You mean their incessant need to be entertained. They see me as a man of strength, yet I feel more like a jester in a gilded cage.”

As you laughed softly, placing your hands on his shoulders you can’t resist the urge to tease him a bit more.

“You could always start juggling, my Emperor. I’m sure the Romans would appreciate a new form of entertainment.”

His laughter is unexpected, rich and deep, breaking the rigid facade he keeps so carefully.

“Ah, but would it please you? That’s the only opinion I truly value.”

You lean closer, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, the warmth of your touch dissolving the walls he keeps erect.

“It pleases me when you are happy, and when you’re true to yourself.”

"Do I really have to wear this?"

He growls, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder as he glances at the small wooden table arrayed with eye paints made from crushed minerals and oils.

The red and black pigments are striking, akin to his fierce persona.

You smile, your heart fluttering as you sit infront of him.

“It’s part of the ceremony, love. The people wish to see their emperor at his proudest.”

He lets out a huff, rolling his eyes, but you can see the corners of his mouth twitch with amusement.

The Emperor Geta reputedly hates everyone- his brother, all men, women, and even the senators of the empire- all except for you. You’re his hidden sanctuary amidst the chaos of politics and gladiatorial bloodshed, and he knows it just as well as you do.

As you sit before him, you pick up a small brush, its bristles softened from frequent use. Carefully, you dip it into the rich black powder and bring it to his face.

You trace a line along his brow, and he flinches slightly, but then relaxes into the soothing motion of your hands.

With a practiced ease, you paint the colors onto him, transforming the grumpy emperor into a vibrant figure worthy of awe.

“Why must you always make me look like a fool?”

He complains, though the way he leans closer tells you he doesn’t mean it.

“Fools are often the most adored, my love,”

You murmur, your heart swelling with affection.

“And you-” you apply the black beneath his eyes, “-are anything but foolish.”

He watches you, an amused glint in his eye. His gruff demeanor begins to soften under your gentle touch.

You tap a tiny bit of the red under his lower lashes and before he can protest, you lean in closer.

“Just a little more. You’re almost too handsome to behold,”

You whisper with a teasing grin.

“Too handsome?”

He repeats, eyebrows raising dramatically.

“You’re going to have me executed by my own guards with that declaration.”

“Perhaps..”

You giggle softly, your fingers now brushing through his tousled hair, taming the fiery strands that refuse to behave. He slowly gets up, admiring your work in the mirror.

“But only if you let them catch your heart, my sweet emperor.”

With that, you pull out a laurel wreath, its golden leaves shimmering slightly in the dim light. As you place it gently atop his head, he gazes down at you, his heart softening.

The small gesture carries a weight of tradition, but it means something deeper in this private moment- the acknowledgment of your bond.

The corners of his mouth break into a rare smile, and your heart skips a beat.

“You and your ridiculous notions.."

He says, half-grumpy yet completely smitten.

“Well, how else will I regain the admiration of an emperor who frightens off everyone else?”

You tease, slipping your hands across his shoulders. He leans slightly into your touch, resting his forehead against yours.

“And you, my treasured wife, have far too much power over me.”

He admits, his voice turning low and sincere.

“What mortal man could resist the charm of his empress?”

At this closeness, you feel the tension of the outside world fade away. Here, inside these four walls, amidst pigments and laughter, he is not the feared emperor but the man who adores you unwaveringly, the softness of his heart warm and inviting.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

“You should know by now that it's only you who can change the hard shell surrounding this heart of mine.”

A breath catches in your throat as warmth blooms across your cheeks.

“Only for you, Geta.”

You reply gently, knowing that for all his grumbling and gruffness, you unearth a sweetness in him that is uniquely precious.

With a swift motion, he closes the distance between you, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. The softness of the moment feels eternal, as the world outside fades, leaving just your laughter and the rich colors of ancient Rome swirling around you.

“Let us show them the emperor with a heart?”

You whisper as he pulls away slightly, a grin spreading across his face once more.

With renewed energy, he stands tall, ready to face the adoring crowd beyond the door. Together, you step into the light, hand in hand- a fierce emperor with the heart of a loyal warrior, and the empress who has tamed his wild spirit.

Here we go!! A well deserved happy end for our ginger model! I actually made this suuuuper long TwT

Don’t forget, requests are always open and I can write for any character you’d like!

I love you guys so much <33

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

one of roman’s penultimate moments as a character being total physical and mental self sabotage. when he fucked it with mencken. when his brother couldn’t help but tell him and rub it in his face. when his public breakdown is going viral. when the only place he was getting the pain he needed in a palatable and productive way was gerri but he fucked that, too. when he was put in the dog cage but he was put in the cage because he liked it. when everybody hit him because he was annoying. like it’s so him. it’s roman all the way. all the pain in excess in every possible way

[surielstea]

Omg hiii! Im so happy your requests are open again cuz my mind has been stuck on a particular trio for far too long. I was thinking maybe azriel x Eris x reader where reader is part of the inner circle and close with Az and then a ball happens and she walks in the room with all the Inner Circle ladies looking GORG and goes to stand next to az talking and everything. Eris notices her and asks Lucien about her and her connection to the shadow singer. Later on he feels a pull or idk (do wtv you want here you know better lmao) and asks rhysand for a night with both. I haven't really decided how I'd like this to go as in the "ask rhys for a night " isn't rlly my fav part here but if you could do it as a slow burn where their both territorial towards her but then discover that not only are they mated to her but to each other too and go crazy in bed while figuring how to tell everyone else and if they actually want to accept the bond blah blah blah (I'M SORRY I'LL GO BACK TO MY CAGE RIGHT AFTER THIS.) I know it's kind of messy but I would be so thankful if you actually made this work ❤❤! Even if you don't or can't I completely understand and I'll just keep feeding off the other AMAZING fics you give us every day 💗💗. Btw I love your writing so so much and can't wait for more of your posts!!!

GUYSSSS!!!

First of all, I love your energy. I'm sorry I took so long to respond to this masterpiece of a request please come out of your cage anon 😚😚

Second of all, OH MY GOD, I'M IN LOVEEEEE. Azris x reader is my Roman empire. I live for it. Their tension is chef's kiss so I'm so happy this was requested. I'm planning on this being pretty long, so I'm unsure when it'll be out exactly, but in the meantime, while you wait, here's a snippet that I just sped wrote in excitement for this:

You stare at them both. At the realization that’s unfolded before you like a grand, inevitable tragedy—or a masterpiece still in the making. You inhale. Deciding one thing for certain. "I need a drink." Eris turns toward you, golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “Do you?” He steps forward, closing the space between you with a slow prowl. “Or do you just need something to soothe the tension?” He steps further into the room, languid and self-assured, his scent of ember and crisp autumn air curling into the space between you. His eyes flick to Azriel, whose shadows shift, restless, as if mirroring the tension in his jaw. Azriel is silent. But he feels it; you know he does. Eris notices it, too. "Not even a snide remark, Shadowsinger?" His voice is velvet-wrapped amusement. "Unusual for you. Unless, of course, you’re too busy realizing that what you’ve been avoiding has been right in front of you all along." Azriel exhales sharply through his nose. "You talk too much." "I make up for all the times you say too little," Eris smirks, tilting his head. "It’s frustrating, isn’t it? How much we understand each other without ever saying a word?" Azriel tenses, but you see it again—that flicker. That split second where he doesn’t deny it. And gods, the realization is exhilarating.

Let me know if you'd like to be included in the tagsss :)

[fawnitive]

talk

featuring : Eren Yeager x fem!reader

content : MDNI, smut, Eren is whipped, he’s also a little shit, mean dom!eren if you squint, car sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, squirting, multiple orgasms, anal play, creampie, hair pulling, full nelson, friends with benefits to lovers sorta, reader is sort of a brat idk, Eren loves hair pulling, ddlg vibes if you use a magnifying glass, a little dumbification, reader has her ears pierced, Eren spits in reader’s mouth, slight degradation, DEFTONES MENTION!!!

word count : 5.7k

synopsis : After Eren ends your little fling, he asks to talk it out with you one late night. You find out he believes talking is overrated.

notes : hi guys!!! i’m angel, and this is my first ever fic and it took me weeks to work on, so notes, reblogs and constructive criticism are all welcomed! hope you enjoy my loves <3

- Come outside

Your stomach flips as you read the notification on your screen, hesitantly swiping it away. It’s late on a Thursday night, it’s quiet. Your room is shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the blaring brightness of your phone screen. You continue to scroll through Instagram, giggling at Hitch’s close friends, when another message comes through.

- Let’s talk

Talking. You chew your cheek. When was the last time you two had spoken?

“Friend, huh? Is that what I am to you?” His hands caged your head against the bathroom wall. He leaned closer, dropping his head to meet your gaze, his breath minty and warm. “Is fucking each other what friends do?”

“It was a-“

“A mistake? Is that what you think of us?” Eren was dangerously close to you now, his lips ghosting across yours.

“I never said it was a mistake,” You chewed your lip nervously as you drew in a shaky breath, “Just a one time thing.”

“There’s no fucking difference, you either want this or you don’t. You know how I feel about this,” his breath fanned over your face, your eyes flutter closed, “About you,” he pauses.

“Don’t deny me, please, let me know I’m not alone in this,” he was almost pleading now, his voice soft and strangled.

You let your head fall back, gently knocking against the wall. “Eren, I-“, you looked at him, how the sharp contours of his jaw had been softened into slopes by the low, luminescent lighting. Your eyes trailed over him slowly, like he was a wonder of the world.

Striking, green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes. A pointed Roman nose, above his plump, rosy lips and the set of shiny white teeth behind them. His smooth, olive skin, akin to sculpted sandstone. He was everything you could have asked for, everything you needed, and that was entirely too much to ask of him.

You shook your head at him, dropping his gaze ashamedly. The air in the room staled.

Eren scoffed, and his hands fell from their place on the wall. “Fine, you want to fuck Jean, go for it,” he runs a hand down his face frustratedly, “thanks for letting me know where I stand, and that this meant absolutely nothing to you.”

“Eren, that’s not-“

“Shut the fuck up, okay? You don’t get to have a say in this, you don’t get to fuck with my feelings and then tell me it’s fine. You don’t get to-“, he blows out a short breath, recollecting his thoughts. He starts again, slower, calmer, quieter, “You don’t get to break my heart and tell me that’s not what you meant, okay?”

He waits for a response, and you wait for him to shout again. You have a moment of silence, despite the muffled Deftones bleeding through the walls. Eren turns to leave, but his hand hesitates over the doorknob. Opening his mouth to speak, he casts you one more angry - no, pained - glance, and swallows.

“Do you regret this?”

You don’t respond.

The door slams behind Eren. You don’t follow him.

The door slams behind you as you step into the midnight chill, dressed in only a hoodie and shorts. The night air bites at your legs and you flex your hands at your sides routinely. The world outside is serene - illuminated only by the spindly street lamps stationed on the sidewalk. Your heart sputters at the sight of Eren’s car, parked crookedly in your driveway - you can’t even see through his tinted windows. The low hum of his engine rattles his car gently, like a small, mobile refrigerator.

When you get to the passenger side, you swing the door open, slide into the plush leather seat, and close the door, all without sparing Eren a second glance. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, legs spread wide apart, in a black hoodie and grey sweats. He shifts his hips upwards as he readjusts his sitting position, his eyes never leaving your shivering figure.

He rakes over your oversized hoodie, your bare legs, your pretty, pretty face. He lingers on your face for a second too long, then he grins when he sees you press your thighs together.

“You cold?”

“Yeah, a little,” Eren hums in response as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. His rings glint in the muted glare of the moonlight.

“Want me to turn on the heating?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” You watch as he cranks the dial up to max, and the warm air almost instantaneously rushes out of the AC vents. You slump back into your seat, revelling in the warmth. A thin film of condensation falls onto the windows, mottling the midnight scenery outside.

“So,” Eren begins cooly, “how have you been?”

His voice was oddly impartial, and you knew better than to trust Eren’s nonchalance. You look at him side-long, attempting to uncover any unkind inflections. You’re met with a lazy smile and a glint in his eyes that stokes the warmth between your legs, warmer than any heater can make you.

“I’ve been good.” A small, charged beat passes. “You?”

“I’ve been good too,” he hums. He licks his lips cockily when he asks, “Have you missed me?”

You’re a delicate instrument, and Eren wants to know if he can still remember how to play you, how to tune you to his liking.

You surrender to his disarming smile.

You breathe in. “Yeah, I did.”

Eren huffs out a quiet laugh and lets his head fall against the window. “I’ve missed you too.”

You breathe out. “Really?”

He grins. “Of course, I have.”

He slowly leans across the console, “What,” he murmurs softly, “You don’t believe me?”

You squirm in your seat, flustered by his unwavering gaze. His eyes are low, and swimming with mirth. He cradles your face in his hand and your eyes flutter shut when he drags his nose along your jaw.

Your breaths are shallower now. You’re supposed to be talking, talking about you, talking about your relationship, talking about anything but how much you yearned for each other the past weeks.

You tilt your head sideways, facing him, and tentatively press your forehead to his. He’s rendered you breathless within minutes. You are drowning in him - his sight, his scent, his touch - you can’t talk, let alone breathe, not when he’s taking up all the space in the car.

All notions of reconciliation are abandoned when he presses a fleeting kiss to the shell of your ear, and then whispers, “Do I have to prove it?”

You draw in a shuddering breath.

“Please.”

His lips press into yours, hot and wet, as you lace your hands into his hair. He tastes of peppermint and marijuana. His hand trails from your cheek to your throat, squeezing gently, coaxing a small moan from you. Skimming his thumb over your pulse, his tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it gently. Your hands tug at the hair interlocked between your fingers, and Eren releases a loud groan into your mouth.

“C’mere,” he mumbles against you. His hands slip under your thighs, and he gently manoeuvres you over the center console and into his lap. You shudder when you feel him beneath you, large and thick and impossibly hard. You roll your hips against the tent in his pants experimentally, and it pulls a moan from both of you.

He pulls away - his lips slick and swollen, still connected to yours by limp strings of saliva - to rasp, “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, you know that?”

There is nothing other than reverence in his eyes as he surveys you. Your chest is already heaving, you’re flushed from your neck to your ears, and your lips are a dark, kiss-bitten red. An angel.

My angel, Eren thinks.

You hum in response and dip your head to capture his lips again. His cock is already dribbling precum, staining his sweats a dark grey. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, before sinking your teeth into it. His dick twitches.

Eren pulls away, again, to mutter huskily, “You’re so mean, baby, what am I gonna do with you?” before sliding his lips along your jaw. His lips leave a blazing trail behind them, and his hands are just as hot.

His fingers slip under the hem of your hoodie, pressing small circles into your skin that make you writhe in his lap. His lips stretch into a smirk as he descends down the column of your throat, pausing every now and again to suck bruises into your skin. His hands tug at your hoodie, with a muttered, “Off.”

You scramble to take off your oversized sweater in the confines of Eren’s car, and in your flurry of movements, you elbow the horn behind you. You jolt at the sudden squawk, but Eren’s grip on your waist keeps you grounded. He chuckles lightheartedly.

“Easy, we don’t want your neighbours knowing we’re out here, right?” he teases you. Pouting, you discard your hoodie into the passenger seat and watch Eren’s jaw go slack at the sight of your bare chest.

“No bra?” Eren immediately takes your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth and your back arches, “You’re so good to me, baby.”

You keen as he rolls the other nipple in his fingers, content with how they pebbled due to the chill of the night. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and places sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in the valley between your breasts. His large, calloused hands fondle your breasts languidly, his cock twitching in his briefs. Moaning softly, you roll your hips against him, desperate for friction, and whimper out a needy, “Eren, please.”

He lazily grins up at you. He is so insufferable - “What do you need, baby?”

You attempt to roll your hips again, but Eren’s hands keep you stationary, “I need you.”

“Yeah? You want me to take these off for you?” He tugs at your skimpy shorts, and he chuckles when you nod enthusiastically, “Hips up, baby.” He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, and he sweeps off your underwear and shorts, so you’re sitting bare in his lap. He wolf-whistles at the sight of you, pressing a few kisses to your collarbone.

Your tits, full, warm and round, your waist, melded to Eren’s touch, your thighs, plush and soft, either side of Eren’s lap, your pussy, glistening in the light, dripping onto his sweats - you’re so undeniably sexy, even more so in the moonlight painting you silver.

He runs his hands up and down your waist, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. His lips are still swollen from your kisses, and his eyes are glazed with adoration. If you squint, you can see the hearts dancing in his eyes. Your heart flutters.

You’re Eren’s, his to hold, his to fuck, his to love. He doesn’t deserve you - he knows that much - but he is willing to ruin your friendship if it meant being able to see you like this again.

His eyes widen when he sees you palm your breasts, spilling out of the gaps between your fingers. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and warmth courses between your legs.

“Stop it.”

Eren is snapped out of his reverie by your voice. He clears his throat briefly. “Stop what?”

You wiggle on his lap, juggling your tits, smiling coyly, “Staring.”

He grins at you, brazen, “Never.”

His breath fans against your chest, hot, and his tongue slides across your sternum, hotter. He pulls you in for another kiss, a slower, softer one this time, and lets his hands roam around you freely. One hand rests on the small of your back, the other sliding down the plane of your stomach to where you need him most.

Your hips buck to meet him halfway. “Please, Eren-“

His fingers finally come into contact with your core, and you let out a strained whimper at his fleeting touch. He ghosts over your clit, chuckling at your displeasure. Just as you are about to whine again, he starts applying pressure to your swollen nub - just enough to make your head spin - as he clicks his tongue.

“Patience, baby. No more whining, you know I’ll give it to you good.“ He dips a finger between your folds, running it along your slit, before plunging it into you.

You gasp quietly as he begins thrusting it in and out of you. His fingers are long and thick, adorned with thick silver rings, nestled against that gummy spot that makes your knees weak. The stretch is delicious, something your fingers could never achieve. You can hear the squelch squelch squelch echo around the car before he even adds another finger. You’re mildly aware that you’re dripping down his wrist, but your mind is too foggy with pleasure to feel an inkling of shame. You’ve never been this wet for anyone before, and your heart hammers wildly in your chest.

“You hear that baby?” Eren teases you, “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” You whimper and bury your head into the crook of his neck. He slides in another finger, stretching you open, open, open. His rings graze your clit and you hum eagerly. You resort to bouncing on his hand, your gut beginning to tighten. Eren’s fingers still as he watches you. His voice is lowered to a husky drawl - “Go on, I want to see your cum on my fingers. Use me, baby.”

You begin to rock your hips faster, encouraged by his coos, the flames in your gut beginning to spread. Your gyrations become erratic and uneven. You pant into his ear wantonly, your breasts bouncing with your every move.

Gritting his teeth, Eren throws his head back. Moan by moan, you’re sending him closer to the edge. The hold you have on him is debilitating, and he’ll finish soon - untouched - if you don’t stop whining into his ear like a bitch in heat.

“Look at me,” Eren commands suddenly, tugging your hair. “I want to see you cum for me.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders, holding his gaze, you grind your clit against the heel of his palm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your legs lock around his waist at this newfound degree of pleasure. Moans are tumbling out of you unrestrained now, your voice high, whiny and loud. You are on the brink of orgasm, painstakingly close, and as Eren tugs your hair again, you lose it.

Your vision blurs and your legs shake as the world stutters on its axis. You spasm and clench around Eren’s hand, dripping onto the seat below you. Pleasure washes over you in waves, each one less intense than the last. You fall into Eren’s chest, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

Eren looks at the mess you’ve made, chews his lip - letting out a low fuuuuck - before asking if, “You’re okay?”

You hum in response, barely registering Eren’s question. He flips you swiftly, and your back is now flush with his chest. His hoodie is warm and scratchy against your skin. Eren tugs your hair again, lighter this time, and you look at up him, eyes wide and glazed over.

Eren sucks in a breath as he stares at you, basking in your post-orgasm glow. Your skin shimmers in the dim light filtered through his windscreen, casting your face half in shadow. Your eyes are low and your chest heaves with your sharp and fast inhales. He brings his hand up to your cheek, swiping his thumb under your eye, the other cupping your sex.

“I could cum just looking at you,” he murmurs.

You lean into his embrace, whispering, “I can cum just thinking about you.”

A hoarse groan spills from his throat, and a hard slap is landed to your clit. Your whole body lurches as you mewl loudly.

“Is that right?” he chuckled breathlessly, “Do you think about me when you touch this dirty little pussy of yours at night?” You nod avidly, and he rewards you with a few harsh circles to your clit.

“Show me,” he said, leaning forward to watch his fingers play with your pussy, “Show me how hard you cum when you think about me.” He hoists you up so he can shove his sweats halfway down his thighs - no underwear? God, he’s such a slut - and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, bobbing between your legs.

It was long, and girthy, the head flushed to an angry red. Precum dribbled steadily from the tip, trickling down his shaft in translucent streams. A bulging vein runs down the underside of his cock, straight to where his balls sit, heavy and warm. Gripping his cock at the base, he smacks the bulbous head again your clit twice. Your legs spasm either side of him and he smirks before spitting, a fat glob of saliva landing onto your puffy clit.

He taps your clit again, gentler, encouraging, as he urges you, “Touch yourself, baby. I won’t ask again.” The shift in his tone is evident as his eyes darken, forest green now a deep viridian. You bite your bottoms lip as you slide a hand down your body, the other idly kneading your left breast.

Your fingers draw lazy circles around your entrance before dipping a finger between your folds. You sigh breathily, allowing your head to fall against his shoulder, and Eren begins pumping himself slowly. You slip a finger into yourself, before bringing it back up to your lips. Eren watches keenly as you suck your essence off your fingers, then dip them back between your legs. You purr as you thrust two fingers into yourself, massaging that gummy spot that makes you dizzy. You begin to go faster, synchronous to the pumps of Eren’s hands.

His grunts are low and heavy in your ears, goading you to, “Go faster, I want to see you cum all over your fingers like the slut you are.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, your fingers now hammering into your little hole, coaxing little spurts of arousal out of you with every pump. Eren uses your cum as a lubricant, slicking his shaft as he fists his cock aggressively. His dick nearly glitters in the moonlight, lathered in a milky sheen of your arousal. He snakes his vacant hand up your body, briefly squeezing your throat, your pulse hammering beneath his fingertips.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and he takes the opportunity to shove his fingers into your mouth. He watches saliva pool in your mouth, before spitting in it. You hum delightedly, your face so vacant with pleasure it makes Eren curse. As Eren pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spit dribbles down your chin and into the concaves of your collarbone.

“Such a messy girl, aren’t you?” he coos. You blink slowly, and then nod blankly. “Bet you don’t even know what I said, huh? So cockdrunk already,” he tuts at you lovingly as he brings his free hand to your second entrance.

When he circles your puckered hole, you gasp quietly. He shushes you tenderly, and he feels you give way beneath his finger tips.

“Good girl, gonna let me have all of you, right?” you agree mindlessly, dazed in the pursuit of your orgasm. He chuckles at you, how dumb you are for him, before slipping a finger into you, knuckle deep. Your body contorts and you let out a sharp cry. Eren grips the base of his cock to prevent the orgasm threatening to crest at the sound of your cries.

Even with one finger down there, you feel so full, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You slam your free hand on the steamy window, plastering a hand-shaped spyhole onto it. Your fingers speed up and you begin to pant when you sense your core begin to twist.

“Eren- I’m so close, fuck,” Eren slides a second finger into your ass and you let out a loud, debauched, filthy moan. You lick your lips longingly, watching beads of precum drip over Eren’s hands as he smears it over his shaft.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eren grunts against your neck, “Gonna make me cum.”

Knowing Eren was here, with you, being driven to the edge by your wanton cries and unabashed pleasure, sends you toppling headfirst into your second orgasm of the night.

Your back arches wildly and you wail out Eren’s name as you shake and convulse. You twitch violently around Eren’s fingers, simultaneously gushing onto yours. Your wrist is dripping with your arousal, as is Eren’s entire cock. As you thrash on his lap, he slowly retracts his fingers from your ass.

He slides his lips along your jaw, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat beaded along your face, before tilting your head with a large hand and kissing you. You suck on his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it softly, just how he likes it.

With a throaty moan, Eren follows you and hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out from his cock. They drape over your thighs, the steering wheel and your stomach like silvery garlands of pearls. He lets out a small grunt as the last spurts fall limply onto his hand.

You whine breathily as he rubs his cock through your folds. He gently rolls his hips upwards, and his balls hit your round ass with a small plap. He pulls away from your heated kiss, and you chase his lips desperately - you’re pathetic.

The head of his massive cock aligns with your belly button and Eren, gripping his shaft by the base, taps his tip against your navel, admiring the thin strings of precum that linger.

His voice drips with sadistic enthusiasm when he drawls, “I’m gonna be in your stomach, baby. Can you take it?”

“Eren, please, I need you.” You roll your hips against the hard length of his member.

He chuckles at your wanton desperation. “You want it, baby?” You nod fervently. “How bad?”

“So, so, so bad, please fuck me, Eren.” Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your eyes lock onto his with blind adoration. He presses a quick kiss to your hairline, and then your forehead.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He presses his cock against your entrance, slowly, slowly, slowly pushing past that tight ring of muscle. You sigh dreamily as Eren nibbles on your earlobe, occasionally tugging at your piercings.

He pauses briefly when he bottoms out. You squirm in his arms before he scolds you, slapping your inner thigh harshly. The eerie silence of the world around you fades into your ears ringing when he slowly - agonisingly - begins thrusting. His cock drags along your walls perfectly with every precise roll of his hips. His groans echo around the car. The joint sounds of your ecstasy nearly drown out the lewd squelches between your legs.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Eren hammers your g-spot. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your release begin to crest. Eren’s breath is hot against your neck and his muttered praises cloud your brain.

One of your hands travels up to entangle itself in Eren’s hair. He turns and plants a wet kiss on your palm. His thrusts become more rapid and shallow as you clench around him. You feel the car rock in time with his thrusts and you sigh happily.

You want your neighbours to know you’re getting fucked senseless. You want the world to know how good you’re getting it right now. Though now, your world has you spread on his lap like a fuckdoll and is pounding you like an animal.

You hiccup as Eren sinks his teeth into your palm. “You okay, pretty girl? Been quiet for a while.” When you nod, he presses his wet lips to your cheek, plastering his smile on you. He slides a hand down to your clit and begins rubbing it in small, quick circles. “No worries, I’ll have you screamin’ my name in no time. Gonna turn you into my little rag-doll.”

Your back arches as his thrusts also pick up speed. Every thrust has your legs trembling and voice cracking.

“Eren- fuck, it’s so good,” you babble in your gut-wrenching pleasure.

“Yeah?” His smirk is hot against your neck. He whispers, “How good?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts impossibly faster. Your hands dig into his biceps and when you feel blood bead at the skin, he hisses in pleasure.

“So good, no one does it like you, Eren.”

He throws his head back with a hearty groan. God, you don’t know what you do to him. Every time he thinks you’ve lured him in deep enough, he finds himself diving into you again, until he’s drowning in your wet, warm depths.

Your eyes meet his again. Your lashes flutter and Eren presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead after brushing away the hair plastered to it.

“Oh, yeah? It’s that good?” You nod lazily, your body jolting with the force of his thrusts. He takes one of your tits in his palm and squeezes hard. He lowers his mouth to yours, and you wet your lips in anticipation. “You gotta cum all over me then.”

You do. Ecstasy dances down your spine as you cry out his name. You squeeze your eyes shut as your clamp down on Eren’s cock. White flashes behind your eyelids like fireworks. You moan his name again and again and again and he tells you he knows, he knows, he knows. Your arousal drips down his shaft, leaving a glistening trail past his balls and onto the padded leather beneath you both.

“Good girl,” he coos. He brings the fingers circling your clit up to your lips, and you dart your tongue out to taste yourself.

His pace never relents, not even when you’re sobbing wildly. The aftershocks of your previous orgasm fade, and you’re already teetering on the edge of another. You wring your hands in the sweat-sodden material of his hoodie. You sob, “I’m gonna cum again.”

“Already?” he tuts and laughs, his voice husky and low. He hums in approval before pinching your nipple tightly. The pain elicits a sweet, little cry from you. His voice is strangled when he asks, “Tell me what you need.”

“More, I need more, I need it harder,” you whine into his neck. You nuzzle into his collarbone, deeply inhaling his warm, vanilla cologne.

“You want harder? I’ll give you harder, you little slut,” he grunts as he hooks his arms under your knees, pinning them to your chest. The change in position angles his cock so deep into you, you can feel him in your throat. When you feel the head of his cock ram into your cervix, you shriek - half pain, half pleasure - and Eren swallows your cries with a wet and sloppy kiss, much like the mess between your legs.

Incoherent moans tumble from your mouth, your eyes find sanctuary in the back of your head and your wetness floods the seat below you. The sharp pain makes you gasp, makes your toes curl. The pads of Eren’s fingers are warm against your knees and his breath is searing against your neck. He continues to split you open on his cock, intent on ruining you on his lap.

He lifts his head to observe you, to admire your undoing. Your skin is sweaty and flushed, your lashes beaded with tears, your lips swollen and bitten. You’re a sight for sore eyes, a glimpse of heaven in his arms. Your eyes snap to his and you whimper in shame, mustering up the scraps of dignity you had remaining, shying away from the ferocity in his eyes.

Eren chuckles dryly at you. He calls your name. Once. Twice. You shake your head and bury it into your chest.

“Oh, no, no, no.” His hands come to rest on the back of your head, arms still hooked under your knees, and he roughly yanks your head back to look at him.

You gasp, “Eren-“

“Look at me.” Your eyes lock onto his. “Look at this.” He tilts your head down, maintaining his ruthless pace, “Look at you, baby, getting so wet for me.”

You laugh and sob, surveying the mess you’ve created. Your arousal is spread between your lap - thick, slimy strings connecting your thighs to Eren’s. Your lips are stretched around his width, suctioning him into you with lewd squelches. It’s so wet and sloppy and messy and it’s so, so perfect.

“Feels so- so, so good, baby, fuck,” you babble this out to Eren and he belts out his handsome, disarming laugh.

“Yeah? Bet it does.” You melt even further into his touch when he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

Watching yourself get split open by Eren sends you hurtling towards your release, so you breathe out a quiet, “Cumming.”

Eren chuckles, drops his lips to your ear, and murmurs, “Are you asking or telling me?”

You shake your head weakly. “Don’t make me beg.”

He chuckles quietly, deciding to take mercy on you. Eren sinks his teeth into your earlobe before he gives you a deep, hard thrust, and then commands you to, “Cum.”

Your legs go limp as the world stutters on its axis. The pleasure is mind-numbingly intense and white-hot bursts of relief wrack your body rhythmically. Your mouth gapes in a silent scream as Eren slams himself into your cervix again and again. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and your head kills back onto his shoulder, too weak to watch yourself cum around him.

Your arousal, clear and copious, sprays everywhere in his car : his seat, the steering wheel, the windscreen, even your body. Eren moans at the sight of you squirting all over his car, you marking your territory. You shudder helplessly in his grasp, succumbing to the heat dousing your limbs. If not for Eren’s tight grip on you, you would have collapsed.

He keeps going, keeps thrusting, desperate to join you in the pleasure of orgasm. His thrusts become sloppier, but no less deep. You mewl with every pump of his hips against yours, overly sensitive and stimulated.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he pants, strained and shaky, in your ear.

You moan at the thought of his hot, thick cum filling you up. “Inside, Eren, please, please, please-“

He cuts you off with a pained groan, “Fuck, you know I can’t do that.”

“Please, Eren, please,” you plead with him, your eyes wide and glassy, “Don’t I deserve it?”

His eyes snap shut and he lets out a shaky, ragged breath. “Shit, you’re making this really hard for me.” His hips pummel you faster, shallower, irregular, as if he’s losing his restraint.

Fuck it, he’s come this far, and he can’t say no to you. “You want it, baby? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I need it Eren, please give it to me,” you whimper desperately.

“Fuck,” he whines as he thrusts into you a final time, unloading himself into you. Sighing happily, you press a kiss to his cheek as you feel the warm spurts of cum paint your insides. He only pulls out when he stops pulsing inside you, wincing slightly.

Eren slumps against your shoulder, his chest rattling with every breath. Your hands tangle into his thick, chestnut hair. He grunts in approval. Quick, fleeting kisses are pressed to your shoulders and you shudder. Your movement reminds you of the mess between your legs, and you suddenly feel filthy.

“Eren,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Eren’s response is muffled by your neck. “Yes, baby?”

You sniffle. “I’m messy,” Eren jerks up, seemingly rejuvenated after remembering the importance of aftercare.

“Shit, sorry, I’ll clean you up now,” he reaches for your hoodie and starts wiping at your inner thighs. He grins up at you over your shoulder - “You really made a mess huh?”

You shuffle awkwardly in his lap. You had squirted on his sunroof, a mess was an understatement.

The corners of his lips pull upwards into a smirk, “Don’t worry about it, ‘m getting my car detailed anyway.” Humming when he’s deemed you clean, he rotates you so you’re eye to eye. His eyes twinkle with undulating lust as he wipes away your tears. “You good?”

You nod meekly, nuzzling his calloused palm.

He pinches your thigh. “Don’t get all shy on me now, you were being real loud earlier.” He tosses the hoodie into the backseat before placing kisses to both of your breasts. His brows pinch at the slightly pensive expression plastered on your face.

He tugs your hair lightly. “Do you want me to get you a Plan B? We can-“

“We were supposed to be talking, Eren,” you wrong your hands in his shirt.

A cocky grin spread across Eren’s face. “Oh, she was definitely talking to me,” he moves to cup your sex, but you swat his hand away. His smile drops at the deflated look in your face.

Sighing, you ask, “Are we ever going to talk about this?”

He frowns, brushing your hair out of your face. “I thought we were gonna forget about it? One time thing, you know?”

You sigh softly and slip your hands under the hem of his shirt. As you run your hands along the ridges of Eren’s abdomen, his cock bobs.

“We can’t keep using that as an excuse to-“

“Do you regret it?”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up to meet his gaze and his eyes are glinting mischievously.

Squeezing your face between his fingers, Eren pulls your face towards his. His tongue slides along your bottom lip before he reclines. “Do you regret this? Us?”

You swallow.

You don’t respond.

But this time, Eren knows better.

He captures you in a slow, sloppy kiss. His lips meld to yours as he murmurs, “I don’t think we have to talk about anything then.” He sucks your bottom lip slowly, letting it swell in his mouth, before smirking impishly as he rasps, “Talking’s overrated.”

[caramelcleopatraa]

TEAR IT UP

word count: 1.4k

x: took me a couple of days to finish this. excuse any errors you see. hope you guys enjoy this <3 please comment... I love comments.

content: Roman Reigns x Aahliyah, 18+ MDNI, creampie, doggy, missionary, dirty talk

His thrusts were strong enough to knock the wind out of her. And they were, making her lose her mind in the best possible way. The fresh crescents that formed on his wrist from her fingernails were fresh as she clinged onto him to dear life. She was already dripping before he even touched her, so she couldn’t imagine the mess that she was making. Not that she would be thinking about that right now. Not when he’s in her ear saying all of her favorite things, knowing the effect he has on her. “Damn, you’re taking daddy’s dick so good.” With her face pressed into the pillows, she couldn’t see his face, but she already knew that he was wearing that smug smile, confident in his ability to give her good dick. And he always delivered. He was in complete control, moving and maneuvering her however he wanted. “Talk to me baby, let me hear you.” He couldn’t possibly expect her to talk back right now, especially when she’s face down ass up with her hands held behind her back. She stares at the empty wall, focusing on nothing but how good he is dicking her down. “I- umm- I- oh fuckk daddyy.” He chuckles to himself and replies, “I can’t hear you, do I need to slow down?”

Her eyes rolled as he milked out his thrusts, teasing her in the most agonizing way. “Noo, daddy pleasee!” He lets her hands go, but she keeps her hands in the same spot, while his hands palm her ass. Feeling him knead at her ass greedily made her wetter. “Please what?” The harsh spank that he gave her made jump, and momentarily brought her out of her haze. “Please keep going. Make me cum, I want it so bad.” Roman’s large hands left her ass, while he slid out of her, making his way to sit beside her. “Come ride this dick.” Without hesitation, she straddles his thick thighs and stabilizes herself by holding onto his shoulders. She let herself have a little fun, dragging his tip up and down her folds. His ragged breaths let her know that he was enjoying this. But those ragged breaths would become loud grunts as she slowly lowered her hips, taking all of him. He filled her up so well, and she was addicted to that feeling. Of course she was addicted. Sinking down onto him felt like heaven each time. His wandering hands grabbed her ass while her hips parted from his thighs to sink down onto him again. And again, and again, and again.

“Bounce on that dick Aahliyah. Get that nut baby.”

That was all she needed to hear. 

Her hands trailed from his shoulders to his chest, pushing him down on the bed. She started to grind her hips, biting her lip at how good he felt. The long vertical mirror displayed both of them, entangled in each other. He took occasional glances at the mirror to see her ass slam down against his legs. Her juicy titties and fat ass were his to play with, and he didn't waste a second to give either of them attention. His warm tongue swirls around her nipple, emitting soft deep moans that make her go crazy. “Daddy, I need you,” she pleads, now grinding slowly on his rock hard length. He loved hearing her ask and beg. Her soft voice pleading never failed to make him hard. “What do you need daddy to do?” She whines, knowing that he knew what she wanted. “I need you to tear this pussy up daddy,” She says, staring at his beautiful chocolate eyes. His strong arms wrap around her body, leaving no space between them. He planted his feet on the bed and wasted no time pistoning his length into her. She could only scream and shake at how good he was fucking her. She couldn't escape the cage formed around her torso. She could only lay there and take it.

“This what you wanted, huh?” She tangled her hands in his hair, babbling small yesses. “Ahh shit, I'm finna cum daddy.”She was so high off pleasure. She was sure she was shattering his eardrums with how loud she was screaming. “Mhm, Get that nut mama. Get it.” His voice was everything she needed to tip her over the edge. She hid in the crook of his neck, still grabbing at his wavy black hair. His hands reunite with her ass again, harshly grabbing at her cheeks and fucking her deeper. Her eyes roll from the mind melting orgasm. His hips slow down, allowing her to come down from her high, but they were nowhere near done. He swiftly flipped her over, swapping places. She was fucked out, fresh off of an orgasm and recovering, but he was ready to dive back into her again. 

“You okay?” She propped herself on her elbows, chest still heaving. “Yeah, that dick is too good.” He chuckles and stands on his knees, positioning himself in between her legs. “I’m glad you like it, ‘cause I'm not done.” She never wanted him to be done. Even when she’s fucked out like she is now, she always wanted that dick. “Looks like I got you hooked.”

He strokes himself a few times and aligns himself with her slit. “I don’t play bout my pussy.” She chuckles this time, amused at his response. “Prove it then. Prove you don’t play about this pussy.”

His tell-tale smirk let her know that her wish will be granted. Her legs that rested on the bed were swiftly hoisted into the air. “Hold them.” She obeyed his command and held her legs down, knees grazing the shell of her ear. She loved provoking him. She was a mouthy one, and he loved shutting her up. She tightened the grip on her legs as he entered her. Roman trained her to take his dick. Night after night after night, fucking her senseless until she became a pro. 

He had a perfect view of her. Legs held back and out of the way, pussy on display, and that lust filled stare. His thumb works lazy circles into her clit, his dick halfway submerged in her cunt. “Please move,” She whispers needily. “Be patient ma.” Before she can whine, he lets a string of spit slowly drip on his dick. She moaned at the sight, with a stronger urge for him to move his hips. He shoves the remaining inches inside of her, making her mouth form the letter O. He remained deep inside of her for a few seconds before pulling out completely and slamming back into her. He crawled to meet her and finally gave her what she asked, jackhammering himself inside of her. He observed her expressions as he beat her pussy up. Every moan was fuel for him to keep going. “Ughh, keep fucking this pussy Daddyy, don’t stop.” Her grip on her legs loosened as she melted into the bed. “Don’t make me have to hold your legs in place,” Roman growled in her ear, making her whimper and flimsy grab at her legs to keep them in place. The sinful squelches and smacks of their hips meeting acted as background music, and she was the main vocalist. Her eyes scanned up and down his flawless frame. She had a picture perfect view of him plowing into her. And his loud grunts and groans were only bringing her closer to her orgasm. 

“Mhm, take all this dick, baby.” He knew she was close. The way that she was clenching onto him everytime he pulled out confirmed that for him. “Damn daddyy, you finna make me cum.” He chuckled to himself. He could unravel her so fast, and he left her asking for more. “Go ‘head. Cum all over this dick.” She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back while she lost all control. A ring of her cum formed around the base of his cock. Roman used his right hand to lightly squeeze her throat. He was close too. His pace was slower now, but deep, overstimulating Aahliyah. His face contorted in pleasure, relishing in her wetness. “Damn girl, I'm finna come all up in this pussy. Fuck, this pussy feels so good.” He gave her a few powerful thrusts before coming deep inside of her. They moaned in unison at the feeling of the warm liquid coating her walls. They were both glowing, entranced by the intense wave of pleasure flowing through their bodies. She let go of her legs and wrapped her arms around his neck and enveloped in a passionate kiss. He pulled away panting, staring deep into her eyes.

“I told you daddy doesn't play about his pussy.”

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Roman Bridger

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(Sorry if you're allergic to cats...guess you'll just die then.)

- You're a good mother....

- ...Well a good cat mother, but maternal instinct knows no bounds, right? Especially in relation to a twenty something year old female with far too much time on her hands. You had to wrench your kitten out of an alleyway full of cobwebs in order to save it's life, but you don't regret a single second of it. The fading scars on your forearms from his defensive assaults and the bricks that caged him are just a reminder of how far you've come; how well you've taken care of your now mild mannered little man.

- You love Boxes with every inch of your being, so much so that even total strangers can see it: total strangers like Roman Bridger, the man who's lived in your apartment complex even longer than you have. He can still remember the night you came home with the little thing cradled in your arms: kept close to you and away from the cold regardless of how filthy his fur had been; covered in dirt and trash and dust bunnies.

- He was in the lobby looking through his mail when he heard you walk in, cooing at and lightly scolding the stray as it sat cocooned in your jacket, hissing at you in response to your kindness. His throat had gone dry at the sound of your voice, at the sight of pride on your face; a sight which even the dirt on your skin couldn't sully. You were the most invigorating thing he'd ever seen, and he'd decided in that moment that he had to have you.

- Roman had caught glimpses of you around the building since the day you'd moved in, always just missing you as you went up and down the stairs or in and out of your apartment. He'd had no real interest in you up until that moment, always too absorbed in his own life to bother paying attention to yours. The two of you lived on opposite ends of the same floor, separated enough to where it really didn't matter if he introduced himself or not. You had other neighbors, and you typically ran on different schedules; you hardly even knew he existed and he didn't go out of his way to make himself known.

- But suddenly, he felt as though he had to get to know you: get to know the type of person who could take something in off the street and care for it unconditionally. Someone who would fight tooth and nail to love something: who would refuse to fail in their attempts to save it even as it pained them, even as they punished them for it. In the back of his mind, he knew this obsession of his was a product of his upbringing, but he simply didn't care. You were everything he'd ever wanted, and he wasn't going to let you get away...

- He watched for months as you cultivated a relationship with the little fiend: watched as the scratches on your hands and arms began to disappear, replaced by patches of loose fur hanging off of your clothing. He watched as you bought food and toys and everything else it could ever need, and eventually, he watched as your precious pet began meeting you at your door, curling around your ankles every time you returned home.

- It's a tale as old as time: pet owner leaves door slightly ajar while bringing in groceries, and their animal takes the chance to dash out and run away.

- Admittedly, Boxes had simply been sitting in your doorway, patiently waiting for you as you made your way back to your car for the final few bags that you needed to bring in. But you didn't know that. You were still hunched inside your trunk when Roman returned home and scaled the steps to your shared floor, catching sight of the feline as he fished his keys out of his pocket. He'd made sure that you were gone before he'd done anything, locking eyes with the furball as he kneeled down and called him over, watching as Boxes happily trotted towards him and allowed himself to be pet.

- You were still nowhere to be found as he scooped him up and weighed his options, glancing down the staircase to ensure that you wouldn't catch him as he carried Boxes into his own apartment, dropping him delicately onto his couch. He felt a little bad hearing you later in the day, calling for your lost pet as you searched your apartment and the hallways outside of it, but he soothed himself with the knowledge that he was creating a classic love story. He'd always wanted to make one after all....

- He kept Boxes for about a week: up until you started asking around and hanging up Missing posters, giving him the perfect excuse to finally approach you. He'd practiced in the mirror before he'd made his way over, checking his appearance a couple times before scooping Boxes up and knocking on your door.

- He'd given you a friendly yet sheepish smile when you'd answered, watching your face light up with relief and excitement upon seeing Boxes safe in his arms. He'd apologized for worrying you, claiming that he'd found him wandering the streets a couple days earlier and had been taking care of him ever since: that he just feels terrible knowing that he's kept him from you, and that it's such a coincidence that the two of you ended up being neighbors.

"I've only had him for a couple days, but I'm sure I'm gonna miss him now that he's gone. I should have known he wasn't a stray, he's too sweet to be living on the street." He'd gushed, pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling at you.

"Well, you're welcome to visit him any time you'd like. It's the least I can do after you brought him back home to me." Came your reply: the very "in" that he'd been looking for with his perfectly orchestrated plan.

- Roman takes this offer as a chance to ask you out, catching up with you in the hallway a couple days later and claiming that he has something for Boxes, something he forgot he bought for him during their time together. You watch as he enters his apartment and comes out a few seconds later, brandishing a cat toy as he smiles at you and explains that he feels kind of silly keeping it around with no cat. You open your door for him and watch as Boxes happily greets the two of you; making a mental note of the fact that he very obviously approves of your rather attractive neighbor. Animals are always a good judge of character, right?

- You watch as Roman kneels down to pet him, stroking his fur before showing him the toy that he's brought over, tossing it across your floor for Boxes to run after and attack. You watch as your cat attempts war crimes on the colorful, feathery thing before you're interrupted by the sound of Roman asking you out to dinner, an offer you eagerly accept. He makes some plans with you before he leaves, giving you his number and promising to pick you up at a certain time the next day, saying goodbye to both you and your furry little friend.

- Your first date takes place at a rather expensive restaurant: one you're sure you couldn't afford to dine at if you weren't in the company of Roman Bridger, director. The more you learn about him, the more you seem to like him. He's everything a girl could ever want in a guy: sweet, funny, charming, accomplished. The type of person you could take home to your parents: the type of person who's good for you.

- It's all too easy to agree to another date by the time you're both returning home to your apartments, smiling at each other from across the hall as you unlock your doors and wave a final goodbye. It only takes another date or two before you share your first kiss.

- All it took was him looking up at you from his kneeling position on your floor, and you'd found yourself overcome with the unwavering urge to kiss him. You're sure he saw the expression on your face when your eyes finally met, his hand pausing in it's efforts to pet Boxes so that he could focus on you even more, raising up to his full height after a couple of moments and leaning down to meet you halfway, kissing you softly.

- You didn't go all the way but you certainly came close to it, your kisses deepening as you made your way over to your couch, only ending when you ran out of breath and put a hand on his chest, holding him back as you both began to smile and chuckle breathlessly. He lightheartedly apologized and you brushed him off, teasingly telling him that you should say goodnight before things get out of hand.

- He presses a kiss to your lips, to your cheek, to your forehead, and finally back to your lips before murmuring goodnight, giving your hip a gentle squeeze before he stands up and straightens himself out, grinning at you as he makes his way over to your door.

"See you tomorrow?" He questions as he walks halfway out the door, beginning to close it behind him as he sticks his head in to look at you.

"Tomorrow." You confirm with a smile.

- Tomorrow and forever.

- I think that Roman naturally tries to keep your relationship somewhat private: especially if he intends on including you in some of his future schemes; whether you're fully conscious of what you're helping him accomplish or not. But I also think that he'd use the public and the paparazzi to his advantage if he ever felt threatened: purposefully outing you as his significant other in an attempt to pressure you into staying with him or to keep other men away from you; knowing that it'll be much harder for you to leave him when the entire world is keeping an eye on you and all of your decisions. So PDA in your relationship really just depends on how much your celebrity boyfriend wants the public to know about the two of you.

- The first thing you'll notice about Roman is that he acts differently when he's in different company, and his affection towards you oftentimes reflects that. He has a tendency to act dramatic and melt into you whenever you're on set with him: laying his head on your shoulder and/or hiding his face in some part of your body whenever his work is stressing him out. He tries to keep his affection to a minimum and mimic the relationship of a close friend and/or long time boss: wrapping his arm around you and leaning in close to mutter things in your ear; keeping things between you somewhat ambiguous and hiding your relationship in plain sight.

- He makes whoever takes notice of his actions or walks in on the two of you in a more intimate setting feel like they're the ones in the wrong, and that they're intruding on something they have no business telling anyone about. Though he acts unphased by the persons sudden interruption; stepping away from you smoothly or not moving a muscle until they hurriedly excuse themselves, his lack of guilt sends a very clear and obvious message: tell whoever you want, I'm still the one in control and you're still risking your job....

- When you're not in public together, he usually acts very sweet and clingy with you, loving to lay against you and seek comfort from your touch. It isn't uncommon for him to lay his head in your lap and feel you scratch at his scalp or wrap your arms around him, taking the time to talk about your days while you relax against one another and bask in the quietness of your surroundings.

- Hugs from behind and kisses on the cheek.

- Romans kisses have a tendency to vary: how he kisses you one day might be the opposite of how he kisses you the next; it all just depends on his mood and what he's trying to portray himself as. I think he'd try to act as normal as possible for as long as possible, kissing you soft and slow and sweet, trying to make himself seem like the kind and perfect boyfriend that he wants you to think of him as.

- When that mask of his starts to slip, his kisses take on a much more rushed and rougher feel: turning hungry and needy and passionate. He refuses to let you go or explain himself so you're oftentimes swept up in the emotion that he's suddenly pouring into you. And when you seem to thoroughly enjoy this more depraved version of him; teasingly asking "who" he was last night, he feels reassured in the idea of you being able to love him, the real him. Lets just say that things are never boring with him.

- When the two of you cuddle, he oftentimes treats you like an oversized stuffed animal: wrapping himself tightly around you and grumbling whenever you try to move away, burrowing his face in your hair and squeezing you just that tiny bit tighter. Since he's so whiny, you'd think that he'd complain about your hair getting in his face, but I feel like he'd get so used to it that he'd start having trouble sleeping without the feeling. P.s. it's crucial to him that you want to cuddle with him, so bonus points if you're equally as needy for snuggles.

- He mainly calls you honey but can get a little 'Jack Torrance' on you whenever you're upset with him or not listening: spouting off exaggerated pet names in an effort to get you to talk to or hear him out. He also might call you his partner in crime; sometimes even before you realize the extent of what that could mean....

- Being alone in his apartment after spending all week with you makes him feel like a miserable divorced man who still misses his wife. Everything bad that happens to him is because you aren't there with him, he uses every minor inconvenience and excuse to call you, and he's unnecessarily bored and stressed whenever he doesn't have you in the house with him; sitting in the other room and able to occasionally observe the same way you would a fish tank whenever he needs a break from whatever he's doing.

- You're kind of like his emotional support girlfriend: you go along with him to a lot of different places; especially when he thinks something is going to be a hassle and needs some reassuring company. You'll sit in his lap while he goes through all of his different movie cuts and rants to you about his work, squeezing and patting your thighs for emphasis whenever he gets really caught up in what he's saying. Or he'll pace around while you sit in his office and try your best to soothe him, cupping his face in your hands or rubbing his back while he whines and pouts and insists that "no, no everything isn't going to be alright".

- The two of you probably meet just as he's starting to get more credentials under his belt, so when he finally decides to move in to a new and much more expensive apartment/penthouse, he probably convinces you to move in with him. Although, even if you didn't actually move in, you're bound to spend a lot more time there than your own apartment.

- Growing up without a real family, Roman has always felt as though he's missed out on all the stereotypical experiences that one would have with all of their closest loved ones. So when he gets together with you and finally feels as though he has a genuine connection with someone, he's very eager to make memories and do all of the things that he's always yearned to do.

- Spending holidays together and indulging in all of the traditions that one would expect from them. Haunted houses, hay rides, ice skating, ski resorts, picking out trees, decorating together, etc. He might occasionally seem like he's too grown up for such arguably juvenile activities, but he's actually the one eagerly anticipating and planning things out; clearing your schedules and/or making a fuss over you being too busy/not wanting to participate.

- Roman is very passionate about his "visions". Regardless of what you're doing together, he usually has a very specific idea in his head about what it should look like, and will subsequently be very anal about making sure it's as close as possible to what he's imagining: whether he's picking out clothes for the two of you or decorating your house. It's simply what you get for dating an artistic and creative man.

- Him making home movies of you and/or taking a bunch of photos. It isn't uncommon for him to position you however he wants you, or to suddenly find him filming you; even if you're not doing anything special. You just have to get used to him cataloging your lives together, and understand that he's doing it because he loves you and thinks you're beautiful.

- Arguably trivial details can mean the world to him, and he'll oftentimes make something seem like a far bigger deal than it actually is. He'll insist that he needs to see you "asap" then ask about your opinion on something you simply don't see the importance of and/or have already talked to him about five times already. Expect him to obsess over every little detail and be very particular about things, showing up to your house at odd hours of the day because he needs to ask if you prefer Chantilly Lace or White Heron for the backdrop of his latest scene. Keep in mind: everything is important to Roman.

- Roman memorizes everything you say; almost to an alarming extent. Yes, it's romantic that he knows you like the back of his hand, but when he can guess what you're about to say down to the exact way that you were going to say it, it does occasionally give you the creeps.

- It's important to note that Roman has intense mommy issues, and that everything you expect from someone who grew up in his same predicament can be magnified ten times in relation to how he behaves. Abandonment issues, fear of rejection, trust issues, validation seeking: it's all a big part of his personality, and it's just something you're going to have to work with him on.

- Try your best to bring up/compliment the little details in his work that you think no one has noticed before. He'll immediately light up and gush about whatever it is, eagerly explaining it to you and showing off as he subtly fishes for more praise. He loves to flaunt his knowledge and talent; and to receive validation, so it's the perfect way to cheer him up whenever you think his stress is getting the best of him.

- Being invited on set. If you are allergic to cats then there's a good chance that you met him as his agent or secretary. Regardless, you've had a lot of amusing moments with his employees and their reactions to finding out that they've just flirted with their new bosses girlfriend.

- He's super sweet in private but can act like a little shit when you're out in front of other people: wanting to keep his reputation of being a cocky and obnoxious director up whenever you're around "the public". It might confuse you if you're unaware of his secret and more devious endeavors, not understanding why he'd want to be known as a stereotypical asshole, but you're just happy that he isn't like that all of the time.

- Meeting with him for lunch whenever he's particularly busy. He tries his best to always make at least a little time for you; even when his schedule is a bit hectic.

- Reminding him of work events and meetings that he has.

- Going to Hollywood house parties with him ...or not: he has a love hate relationship with the idea. You'll reassure him that nothing will happen to you and convince him to let you accompany him, but he'll still keep his hands on you the entire time, his grip on you tight, protective and unrelenting. Even as manage to stray a little ways away to look around or talk to different people, his eyes will continuously find you in the crowd and interrupt immediately if he doesn't like the way a certain interaction of yours looks.

- If he's really against the idea of you coming to the aforementioned parties, then he's bound to make it up to you by letting you accompany him to different dinner meetings and/or award shows: settings he deems as much more professional and safe.

- Five star restaurants and other expensive dates.

- He always remembers your anniversaries and does his best to make them special for you: never failing to make a sentimental little toast over a glass of champagne; whether you're comfortable at home or seated in a five star restaurant.

- Mini vacations. Beaches, resorts, cabin retreats, five star hotels, etc. He needs a break from his day to day life every so often, and since you've practically become a part of him, you're obviously coming along for the ride.

- Pool and hot tub dates.

- Movie dates where he overanalyzes the shit out of them: acting like a stereotypical pretentious film student as he gushes over their camera work and directing talents.

- Relaxing at home on your couches after a long day, drinking some wine and taking turns rubbing each others sore limbs: scratching scalps and smoothing hands down each others backs as you both collapse into odd and tired positions.

- Wholeheartedly denies having a favorite stuffed animal of yours, but still always grabs or leans against the exact same one whenever he's waiting in your room for you.

- Sharing eye glasses. The two of you get used to yoinking your prescriptions off of each others faces whenever you need to read something and don't know where your own spectacles are.

- He's always the one in the relationship to get rid of spiders, and yet, you almost always argue over whether or not he's "allowed" to kill them.

"You want me to handle it, but I have to bring it outside?? Just let me squish it!"

"No!!!"

- He has a habit of teasing you, making little comments or "complaints" about your personality or your physical traits, yet he's actually the epitome of "the smell of your hair reminds me of the smell of her feet". He is genuinely obsessed with you and loves even the worst parts of you so wholeheartedly that it's kind of amazing; even if he never outwardly admits it. You sort of just have to read between the lines: like how he calls you a zombie without makeup yet is always the one making moves on you whenever you're barefaced or saying he prefers your more natural makeup looks whenever you ask his opinion on things.

- He always refuses to let you pay for things. He loves the feeling of being able to take care of you and the pride that comes from it.

- Nonchalantly gives you his credit card whenever you want something: like genuinely doesn't even question it when he hands it over, and just trusts you not to completely bankrupt him before he even hears what you're actually asking for.

- When you're living in an area as congested as Los Angeles, it helps to have a boyfriend with a nice car and a not so strict schedule who can drive you to work or college whenever you're both heading out at the same time. It's also nice having a boyfriend who mindlessly lets you borrow his car whenever he's not using it: letting you run errands or drive yourself around whenever he's busy at work; so long as you make it back by the time he's done shooting.

- He likes calling to check in with you whenever he's out of the house and/or out of town: telling you when he's coming home, where he is, what he's doing, asking what you're doing, etc. He may or may not be using you as an alibi whenever he's out committing crimes, but that's neither here nor there.

- Being dragged into his Ghostface affairs in one way or another; whether you're fully aware of it or not. You might not help him do any of the actual killing, but there's still other ways that you can be of service: providing alibis, destroying evidence, communicating with people for him, laying out traps, etc.

- Get used to manipulation and ulterior motives. There's gonna be a point in your relationship where he confesses to everything and you finally realize that innocent little Roman is the mastermind to a lot of things you weren't even aware of; down to even the smallest of details. It's a startling realization but at that point, you're probably already stuck with him and incapable of getting away from him even if you wanted to.

- Having him assure you that nothing will happen to you when the murders start occurring all around you; maybe even comforting him when he comes home from the police station and talks to you about the news that you've been seeing all over the tv. You don't realize that he's so certain that you'll be safe because he's the one behind it all....

- As athletic and psychotic as Roman can be, he's honestly pretty shit at killing people. He's clumsy and inexperienced and sort of scrambling whenever he's forced to do his own dirty work, so you're probably forced to tend to his wounds a lot because he manages to hurt himself even when he's doing something simple and/or something he considers himself fully capable of accomplishing. Catch him dropping boxes on his feet while moving or cutting himself while cooking.

- That being said: his overall clumsiness makes it easier for him to come home covered in bruises and use the simple excuse of getting into some kind of accident, hiding his smile as you fuss over him and his various injuries. Don't believe him babe, he's killing people.

- Taking turns cooking for each other. He's been on his own for a while so he definitely knows how to cook for himself and for other people. But because he's been on his own for so long, he also loves the feeling of finally being taken care of as well.

- Would lowkey immediately break down into tears if you told him that it was okay to cry. Once the two of you are close enough, he opens up about his traumas and rants to you about his childhood, desperately wanting you to agree with him and to reassure him that his opinions are correct. He can get very dramatic and emotional so just try your best to comfort and calm him down: it surprisingly doesn't take much; not when it's you.

- The perfect guy to bring home to your parents. Roman sort of adopts your family as his own: especially in the case of your mother; if the two of you are close with each other. He loves her a lot and becomes her golden boy who simply can't say no to her: always bringing gifts whenever he comes to visit, sending mothers day flowers, and agreeing to whatever she asks of him; which makes it imperative that you form an alliance with her if you really want something from him.

- Always notices when you get jealous over him and his past relationships/one night stands. He honestly loves to see it, to know that you love him as much as he loves you and that you hate the idea of him being with other people, that you genuinely care if he's a part of your life or not. He always assures you that it "was nothing" whenever you see his actresses cooing at him and making it known that they slept together, but he's still all to pleased whenever you get all snippy with and territorial over him.

- His jealousy is capable of transcending the actual actions of other men: like sometimes you simply look so good that it triggers an unhealed part of himself and makes him sick. All he can do is sit there and imagine someone else seeing and falling for you and learning to love you the way that he has, and it makes him think evil thoughts. He's the type of boyfriend who would try to sway you from going out with your friends and/or wearing certain things. And he hates it whenever your guy friends/strangers try to act all buddy-buddy with him whenever the two of you are out together: it turns him borderline murderous and ruins his night.

- He's also the type of boyfriend who would get jealous over you innocently complimenting another person; even if it's just someone on the television or in an actors headshot he's looking at. He stands there glaring at them all stoic and stern, so obviously upset that you notice right away because he genuinely looks like he's got a thousand yard stare. Roman is simply a jealous man to his core.

- Roman loves you like a dog and he protects you like one too: like a stray who knows exactly what it's like to be left out in the cold, and is scared of losing the only home it's ever had. He always wants you to feel like he's there for you and that he loves you with every fiber of his being, so his protectiveness and the violence or the cruelty that comes from it can feel an awful lot like desperation. He stops at nothing to keep you safe and comfortable, and it's in those moments that you can see his carefully crafted facade start to slip and show you the darkness that lies beneath it.

- Your boyfriend outsasses you and it's devastating. Roman is so tightly strung that the two of you probably bicker/argue a considerable amount. And while he can occasionally be a little shit and act a little mean, all it takes is one look from you and he usually redirects his anger or tries to change the subject.

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry. But just-just listen, alright?"

- I mentioned them before but Romans abandonment issues are a big part of why he apologizes so quickly; his general obsession with you also plays a part in it. He hates going to bed angry and/or not being on speaking terms with you so he tries his best to get you to forgive him as quickly as possible; that's usually where the aforementioned 'Jack Torrance' impression comes in. Honestly though, even if you're still fighting by the time you're ready for bed, you still end up cuddling because he simply cannot sleep without you.

- He tells you that he loves you a lot. He also needs to hear you say it back to him in order to have a good day so try to keep that in mind.

- Sorry but you're stuck with him. Roman simply won't let you leave him, he'd honestly either kidnap or kill you before he'd allow that to happen. Regardless, expect a very nice engagement ring to be offered to you not too long into your relationship. He's not incredibly fond of kids so he's gotta find some other way to tie you down as quickly as possible....

[tateypots]

Amantes Sunt Amentes

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Lucilla Verus x Maximus Decimus Meridius

Word Count: 5.3K

A/N: This was written as part of @happypedrohours Bouquets of Pedro event. I got Marcus Acacius and the theme is friends to lovers. It's a bit different to what I normally write (and my first none Joel fic) so please go easy on me.

Summary: It's friends to lovers and pretty much just filth, no one look at me for a while 🙈

Warnings: Smut. All the smut. Kind of voyeurism, infidelity. Not tagging everything. Probably loads of historical inaccuracies but Ridley Scott started it when he made them Generals, don't come at me.

🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️🏛️

Marcus didn’t know how he let Maximus talk him into this. He’d known for a long time that his friend lacked respect for the proper rules of decorum required by a Roman General, always doing things his own way. And Marcus was usually content to follow, even benefit from the trail his friend blazed, his own promotions usually following closely after those of the man he’d fought beside when they were lowly centurions. But fucking the married daughter of the Emperor seemed reckless even for Maximus. And somehow he’d let himself be ensnared in their treachery, agreeing to act as lookout and ensure their rendezvous remained concealed, knowing full well the price they would all pay if they were discovered.

But he couldn’t blame them for their lust. Lucilla was the most magnificent woman he’d ever met, radiant like the sun, brightening the lives of all those who basked in her presence. People were drawn in by her warmth and beauty and held firm in her orbit by the gravity of her intelligence and wit. And Maximus was brave and strong, loyal and righteous. He would fight for what he believed in until his dying breath, unmoving in the face of others whims. He was beautiful too in his way, his body sculpted as though by the Gods, rippling muscles littered with scars that painted the story of a thousand victories. It was quite something to be jealous of both sides of this dangerous union.

No he couldn’t judge them for their lust or their risk taking. Not when he was stood just outside their door frantically fucking his fist to the sound of their coupling, hidden by nothing more than the shadows of the alcove he was sheltered in. It was foolish he knew. He should stay vigilant, that was his purpose here. But after being tortured for the past two nights by the wanton moans leaking through the blasted door that separated them from his sight he could bear it no longer. It wasn’t hard to conjure the image of the two of them to match those tantalising sounds, their naked, writhing bodies, glistening with sweat as they grew wild with their pleasure.

He imagined Lucilla’s soft body, graceful curves and flawless skin, the goosebumps rising across her flesh as the cool night air caressed her bare form. How her head would tip back in pleasure as Maximus’ cock struck deep within her.

No imagining was needed for Maximus. Marcus was well acquainted with his body, they had bathed together often enough when on campaigns. He thought of the hard muscles of his backside flexing with every deep pump, his biceps round and bulging as they held him over his beautiful conquest, caging her to the bed beneath him. He imagined beads of sweat dripping from his chest to hers, as though even their fluids longed for connection, magnetised to each other in every way. Gods what he wouldn’t give to lick the salty liquid from both of their beautiful bodies.

The sounds within started to grow more frantic, moans and grunts getting louder and more frequent. Lucilla released an almighty moan, long and throaty as she came, and Marcus followed her over the edge, painting the wall and floor with his seed, his own primal grunts drowning out the sounds of Maximus’ completion.

Marcus braced himself against the wall, forehead resting on his forearm, panting through his recovery. He released his cock and carefully rearranged his toga. He slipped out of the alcove and stood himself once more outside the door to Lucilla’s suite. He heard the murmurings of conversation within the room, muffled enough he couldn’t make out what was said. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart.

The door swung open behind him and he turned to see Maximus emerge. His friend smiled cockily at him and clapped him on the back.

“Thank you my friend.”

As Maximus moved to the side Lucilla came into view and Marcus had to fight back the moan that raged against his throat, desperate to escape. The silk robe she had adorned herself with clung to her glorious form, leaving little to the imagination. He could see the pebbling of her nipples beneath the soft fabric. He wanted to push her back into the room and tear it from her body, suck the hardened peaks into his mouth as he fucked her into the mattress. His cock twitched in interest despite his recent release.

Lucilla smirked at him, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. And she probably did. She was shrewd and observant, Marcus had deduced that much in the short time since they were introduced. But instead of shaming him, exposing him for his lustful thoughts to her lover, his friend, she simply whispered a soft, “yes thank you Marcus,” resting her hand on his chest and leaning forward to graze his lips with hers. More foolishness heaped atop of the recklessness that had overtaken all three of them. If they were to be caught as they were now they would be as damned as if they had been discovered with Maximus buried deep in Lucilla’s cunt with Marcus outside the door, cock in hand.

But Marcus could not bring himself to break away, that small brush of her lips more arousing to him than any woman he had ever bedded.

“A-a-anytime. I mean anything. I – I,” he willed himself to stop and take a deep breath before continuing, trying desperately to regain his composure, “I – I am at your disposal my Lady, anytime you have need of me.” He wrapped the hand on his chest in his and brought it to his lips, planting a kiss on her knuckles.

A small peel of laughter escaped Lucilla, “I am afraid I will hold you to that Marcus.”

He wished her goodnight and reluctantly released her hand, moving down the corridor to allow them some privacy for their goodbyes. He could not stop himself peeking back over his shoulder to watch their final passionate kiss.

Their goodbyes now complete Maximus hurried after Marcus, throwing his arm around his shoulders, “come brother, I owe you a drink.”

“You owe me more than a drink you madman.”

Maximus laugh echoed around the hall, “the true madness would have been to turn her down and you know it,” he stated, his gaze running over Marcus face, sharp and assessing. “Don’t you?”

Marcus looked away, unable to hide the guilt and shame that coursed through him. His friend knew. Knew that he coveted his lady. He felt entirely exposed under Maximus knowing gaze, like his old friend could look directly into his mind and see all the depravity currently housed there. He grumbled his assent to Maximus claim, knowing it would be churlish to deny it. “Have you always been this insufferable?” he asked, desperate to distract his friend before he could read him any further. Before he realised that it was not only Lucilla he craved.

“Yes, you’re just normally too distracted by battle to notice.”

Marcus laughed at that, some of the tension easing within him. “Will we return tomorrow?”

“No, Lucilla returns to Verus’ country estate in the morning for the summer.”

Marcus nodded his head in acknowledgment, in equal parts relieved and disappointed that this folly had come to an end. Now that the danger had passed he allowed himself to relax. He knew the sounds of Lucilla coming undone would echo in his head for eternity. And if that was the only part of her he was ever destined to have, he would go to his grave knowing he was blessed.

---------------------------------------------------------

Two months had passed since those nights, and Marcus thought of them still. His days passed in a blur, the promotion awarded him following the last round of successful campaigns leaving him busier than ever. Transferred to a new Legion, there were new superiors to impress, new men to train, new strategies to learn. A welcome distraction. But at night. In the quiet of the new villa afforded by his inflated rank, he was tortured by his memories. The ache of longing that accompanied them was almost too much to bear. And the realisation that the beautiful sounds he held so dear were starting to fade from his recollection sent him to the edge of panic.

And to make matters worse, he was no longer stationed with Maximus. He saw his friend infrequently now, brief conversations stolen between campaign planning meetings. He missed him. Missed that connection to those hazy nights that had etched themselves into his soul. He didn’t understand why he felt so lost, so lonely. He had other friends. Had plenty of options for female company. He could lose himself in wine and a warm cunt but he knew it would only leave him feeling worse. It would feel like a betrayal, even though he knew that was ridiculous. That neither of them had ever been his.  

So at the morning campaign meeting when it was announced that Maximus’ Legion was to depart North while Marcus’ Legion would remain in Rome, he had almost punched the wall in frustration. He couldn’t bear it. The ache within him clashing violently with the panic of impending loss. So he had sought Maximus after the meeting, inviting him to his new villa for the evening to share wine and food before they were separated, perhaps for good. When Maximus had accepted without hesitation, Marcus thought he caught a glimmer of the same crazed feeling that was racing through him flash across his friends face. It was gone in an instant. So quick Marcus could believe he had imagined it.

He didn’t know what he expected of the evening. Perhaps he would confess to his lingering thoughts of those nights. How much he had wanted her. Wanted them both. It was foolish to think such things let alone admit them out loud. He knew confessions of that type had been a death knell to many strong friendships. Knew that it could result in Maximus departing from Rome hating him. But he had to do something to free himself from the hell he’d found himself in, he could bear it no longer. He didn’t dare to hope for reciprocation of his feelings. It was always the hope that killed you in the end. So instead he prayed to the Gods that his confession would be enough to free him from his chains, that Maximus would understand at least.  

He had spent the rest of the day agitated and unsettled, counting down the hours that seemed to drag, unending and unforgiving. He was so desperate for evening to come, so distracted that he had been reprimanded several times by his new General. He found it hard to care in his current state, the buzz of excitement laced with fear consuming him fully.

So when a messenger arrived not long after he made it home with a note from Maximus saying he would be bringing someone to dinner Marcus had thrown his goblet at the wall in frustration, all his hopes shattered. There was no way he could discuss those nights with anyone else present. Not with all of their heads on the line. He wanted to cry. Instead he took a deep breath to steady himself and set his household slaves to cleaning up the mess he had made.

By the time Maximus made his entry, Marcus mood had dropped to the floor. He felt sullen and empty. But still he stood to welcome his guest, thankful that he had arrived alone, that he would have him to himself even if only briefly.

“Old friend,” Maximus said, spreading his arms wide for an embrace Marcus was happy to give, their hands clapping at each other’s backs. “Are you alright Marcus, you seem out of sorts,” Maximus asked him as they broke apart, leaving him once again with the unsettling impression that his friend could read his mind.

“I am well, it’s just strange to think of you going off on campaign without me. Been a long time brother.”

“Ah so you are just concerned for my safety, I see,” Maximus teased.

Marcus huffed a laugh, “it is others who should worry without me there to reign you in,” Marcus batted back, the easy camaraderie a balm to his beleaguered soul. Maximus’ laugh rang through the room as he nodded his agreement.

“When will your guest arrive? It had better not be Gaius, I can’t stand that pompous prick.”

“They’ll be here soon. Not Gaius, I promise,” he replied, taking a goblet of wine from one of the slaves, “when they arrive, can we dismiss the attendants?”

Marcus narrowed his eyes at his friend at the unusual request, “what are you up to Maximus?”

Before Maximus could even open his mouth to respond, the mystery guest was announced and shown into the room. Cloak still on, hood still up, undoubtedly female. He wouldn’t. A glance at Maximus smirking face confirmed that he definitely would. Damn him. Marcus hastily dismissed the slaves and closed the door behind them. He turned and headed straight to the table to pour himself a goblet of wine, knocking it back in one go as Maximus divested Lucilla of her cloak before coming to stand behind her, arms wrapped tight around her waist and lips trailing kisses up her throat.

“Have you lost your mind bringing her here?” Marcus asked, his anger flaring through the relief that flooded him at having them both so close. “You know the price if we are discovered, you know how dangerous this is.” Sneaking into the palace was one thing, but bringing Lucilla here was folly beyond contemplation.

“We know.”

“We know?” Marcus scoffed. “You put her in needless danger, traversing the city at night, and for what? One final fuck before you depart?”

“He’s pretty when he’s angry,” Lucilla hummed into Maximus’ jaw before planting a kiss there.

“He is,” Maximus agreed before capturing her lips softly with his.

“Will you two be serious for a minute?!”

“I didn’t bring her here so I could fuck her,” Maximus responded, arms still wrapped tightly around Lucilla’s waist, chin tucked over her shoulder, gaze settled on Marcus.

“No?” Marcus asked.

“No. I brought her here so you could fuck her.”

Marcus brain went hazy as all the blood rushed from his head straight to his cock, he was fully erect within seconds. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the back of a chair to keep him upright, his choked groan filling the air.

“I think he likes the idea dulcissima,” Maximus chuckled into Lucilla’s ear. She only grinned in response, her eyes now locked with Marcus’. She read the longing, the desire, the uncertainty raging behind his soulful brown eyes and her pussy throbbed with anticipation.

“You see Marcus, soon I leave Rome to lead my Legion North,” Maximus explained undoing the clips that held Lucilla’s robes at her shoulders, “and from there I return to Spain to spend time with my wife. I need someone I trust to keep Lucilla safe. To keep her satisfied until I return.” He released the last of the clips and the silk fell from her body to pool at her feet.

Marcus could only stare dumbfounded, mesmerised by her nakedness. His gaze running over her, taking it all in, her lithe, elegant limbs, her full but perky breasts, her plush, round hips, the way her soft skin glowed in the candlelight. She was an ethereal masterpiece, the most exquisite sight he had ever seen. Venus herself would be shamed by comparison.

He knew how stupid this was. He knew he should send them away. But this is all he had desired for months and he could not bring himself to do it. He felt frozen to the spot, unwilling to move lest this turn out to be a dream, fearful of the moment he would wake and they were ripped from his grasp as they had been so many nights since this madness began. He was lost. He was theirs. He would never be able to deny them. 

Lucilla made her way over to him slowly, careful not spook him, a predator stalking her prey. Her hands looped around his neck and played with the curls at the nape of his neck as her lips ghosted over his. He moaned at the contact and his hands instinctively grabbed at her waist. Her heady scent and the feel of her flesh, warm and soft beneath his calloused hands was almost his undoing. He took a deep steadying breath, fighting the urge to push her to the ground and ravage her immediately. Fighting to keep control of himself.

He was so lost in Lucilla he had not noticed Maximus approach him from behind. He felt him there now, his hot breath ghosting over his neck, his hard cock pressing against his buttock.

“Touch her Marcus,” he instructed as he reached round to grab Marcus’ hand in his and guide it to her tit, “feel her.”

Twin moans fell from Marcus and Lucilla as his big hand enveloped her tit and began kneading. It felt perfect, the way her supple flesh gave under his palm, the way it bulged between his fingers with each gentle squeeze.  

“You want her don’t you?” Maximus whispered in his ear, now guiding Marcus’ hands to her ass and pulling them both impossibly closer, the puppet master of this debaucherous evening, positioning them like dolls for his pleasure.

“Yes I want her.”

“Then why are you holding back old friend?”

“She is royalty Maximus! She is married!”

Lucilla was at his other ear now, she playfully nipped at it as her hands undid the clasps at his shoulders, desperate to see him, to feel his golden skin against hers.

“Relax Marcus, my husband finds no joy between my thighs and he is more than happy for me to find someone else who will.”

“And her cunt Marcus,” Maximus whispered to him, his nose trailing up Marcus’ neck, “her cunt is perfect. Worth dying for.”

Marcus growled at his friends words, as Lucilla finally succeeded in removing his robes, her hands tracing the taut skin over his pecs. He yanked her closer again, hands still gripping her ass, right where Maximus placed them, his naked, leaking cock now in direct contact with her skin as he moved against her.

“That’s it old friend, let go. She wants you, don’t you dulcissima?”       

“Gods yes, you’re so handsome Marcus, so broad and strong, I need you,” Lucilla mewled in his ear.

“She is already with child Marcus, you can spill inside her.”

That is what breaks his resolve. With an almighty roar Marcus, grabbed her by the back of her thighs, hoisting her up as her legs wrapped around his waist. He carried her to the table and unceremoniously swiped everything off it, sending food, wine, crockery flying and smashing around the room. His frenzied actions were in contrast to the gentle way he handled her, easing her down onto her back and spreading her thighs apart.

He took a moment to admire her sex, already glistening with her arousal before diving in like a man starved. Her back arched off the table as his tongue swiped a broad path from her leaking hole to her throbbing clit.

“Gods Marcus,” she panted, finally getting the friction she needed on her aching bud. “So good, please don’t stop.”

He had no intention of stopping. Ever. He will have her again and again or go mad with the want. His cock leaked and throbbed, egged on by her gasps and moans but he dared not touch it lest he come undone before he’d ever been inside her.

 As his tongue worked back down to her hole, slurping up every drop of her arousal, Maximus, now stripped of his garments, grabbed her by the shoulders, positioning her head by the table edge. Marcus chased her pussy with his face as her body shifted, refusing to be parted from her even for a second, hands gripping her hips tight enough to bruise.

“Open up for me dulcissima,” Maximus cooed at her, shoving his cock in her mouth immediately as soon as she obeyed, “good girl.”

Marcus watched on transfixed from his position between her legs, his tongue penetrating her depths again and again as Maximus claimed her mouth, his buttocks flexing with every thrust just as Marcus had imagined.

Lucilla writhed against the table as her climax neared. Marcus could feel her tensing beneath him. He continued eating her voraciously, desperate to drink as much of her down as he could. He found her clit with his thumb and began pressing little circles into it, Lucilla mewled and her hips bucked at the contact, her lips still sealed around Maximus’ cock. Her hand found purchase in Marcus’ hair, twisting and pulling as though it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. He growled straight into her cunt as her hips started to grind against his face, the vibrations of it pushing her over the edge. Maximus cock slipped from her mouth as her head tipped back and she howled, back arching off the table and thighs clamping around Marcus' head. Marcus mouth sealed around her hole as his tongue slurped at her cum, his thumb maintaining the steady swirling pace on her clit, working her through her climax.

When the aftershocks had abated, he reluctantly pulled away. He placed a gentle kiss on each of her thighs before working his way up her body, charting his path with open mouthed kisses until he finally worked his way up to her breast, sucking a peaked nipple into his mouth. He would treasure the gasp she released for the rest of his life.

After only a few moments he felt Maximus’ grip fisting in his hair and pulling him up off Lucilla. For a panicked moment he wondered what he’d done wrong, wracking his brain for what could have triggered his friend. But before he could stammer out an apology for whatever insult he’d caused, Maximus’ lips crashed into his. The kiss was messy and desperate as Maximus asserted his dominance in his mouth, Lucilla’s moans at the sight of them drowned out by the beating of his own heart.

Maximus held him in place, hand still fisted in his hair. “Good boy,” he growled against Marcus’ lips before diving in again for another passionate kiss. When he finally released him, Marcus slumped over Lucilla’s prone body as Maximus leant down to kiss her also.

“Always taste so sweet dulcissima but you’re even sweeter from his lips,” he told her, making Marcus groan against her chest. His head was spinning at finally getting everything he’d wanted after so long convincing himself it could never be. He never wanted this night to end.

“Did he do a good job for you my sweet? Did he make you feel good?”

“He was perfect Maximus, just like you promised,” she answered, her hand coming up to caress Marcus head as he laid atop her, “and now, I need him inside of me.”

“Not here,” Marcus hummed against her chest, “you will be in a bed the first time I take you.” He pressed a hot kiss against her sternum and pushed himself up, gathering her in his arms, striding out of the room and down the hall to his chambers, no longer giving a damn if any of the slaves saw.

Placing her gently down on the bed Marcus wasted no time climbing on top of her, settling himself between her thighs as his lips captured hers in an ardent kiss. She grasped onto him tightly as she tasted herself on his lips and tongue. The need she had for him was growing with every second, his weight on top of her almost enough to drive her insane. With a final peck against her lips he propped himself up on one arm, running his other hand down her body, squeezing at her tit as he went.

“So beautiful, so perfect.”

“God’s Marcus, please!”

He smirked at her begging. Ordinarily he’d tease her, rile her up to the point of desperation but he knew that would only be torture for him as well. And he’d tortured himself enough, he couldn’t wait any longer. Taking his cock in hand he pushed the fat tip inside of her, taking his time and making sure to commit every second to memory.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight,” he panted as he kept pushing in, testing her bodies limits as her pussy stretched around him. She moaned and clawed at his shoulders as he breached her, already in ecstasy.

He bottomed out with a primal grunt, stilling as his hips met hers, allowing her to acclimatise to his invasion of her body. Small mewls and whimpers escaped her as he leant forward and kissed along her collar bone.

“Most perfect cunt I’ve ever been inside, so warm and wet and tight. You are perfect my Lady,” he babbled, already pussy drunk just from entering her.

A sharp smack to his backside broke him from his daze, making him moan as his cock twitched deep inside her.

“Time to put that perfect cunt to use brother,” Maximus demanded, “move.”

Marcus needed no further invitation and started snapping his hips, moving straight to a hard rhythm that stole her breath and her words, throaty moans were all she could muster. Her hands fisted in the sheets, in Marcus hair, around anything she could find to try and ground herself as he threatened to send her straight to Elysium with his cock.

She rocked her hips into his, settling into his established rhythm like she was made for it. Made for him. Marcus had to fight to keep hold of himself, intending to milk this night for all it’s worth lest it be the only opportunity he ever got. He reared back onto his knees with a grunt, pulling her hips up off the bed and holding them tight as he pummelled into her, hitting that perfect spot that had stars dancing behind her eyes.

He watched as Maximus climbed onto the bed and knelt by her head, facing him. With Lucilla’s next moan Maximus pushed his cock into her mouth, holding her steady while he thrust into her, leaning forward over her body to get the right angle. Marcus closed the distance without thought, crashing his lips against Maximus’ with a feral hunger he had never felt before, his hips punching forward into Lucilla with a mind of their own.

He groaned as Maximus tongue was once again pushed into his mouth, claiming him as they both claimed her. Their rhythm settled, Marcus pushing in as Maximus pulled out, making sure she was never fully empty. They had always been a good team.

Lucilla moaned beneath them as her hand came up to play with Maximus balls and the other slipped down to rub at her clit. Marcus swiftly batted it away, desperate to claim her peak for himself. She would come by his doing and his alone. His thumb replaced her fingers, rubbing and tweaking at the swollen little bud until she keened and clenched around him.

“That’s it my Lady, cum on my cock, give it to me.”

And she did, body arching and spasming as slick gushed from her, soaking his balls and the bed. Maximus cock fell from her mouth as she screamed and he retreated to the side to watch the glorious sight of his lover coming undone for his friend.

Marcus fell back atop her, slowing his hips down to a rolling grind, working her through her climax and allowing her time to recover. He reached out and grabbed Maximus by the ass, pulling him closer to take his cock in his mouth. Maximus growled and his head dropped back in ecstasy, finally getting to live out the fantasies that had plagued him for years. He gripped Marcus by the hair and thrust mercilessly into the wet heat of his mouth, unable to hold back at the sight of Marcus’ plush lips stretched around his cock. Perfect, just like he knew it would be. He slipped deeper and deeper with every thrust until he hit the back of Marcus’ throat. The vibrations of Marcus’ filthy moan are what finally tipped Maximus over the edge, spurting hot ropes of cum straight into his mouth. The first few were swallowed down but the final few are kept in his mouth as Maximus finally retreated with a muttered, “good boy, good fucking boy.”

Marcus opened his mouth to display his prize to the man who bestowed it. It earned him another throaty growl in praise before he leant down to Lucilla and shared his spoils with her as she finally came back to herself after the mind blowing high. The kiss was messy and frantic, spit and cum leaking from around their dancing tongues.

Another smack to his ass had him pulling away with a panting moan.

“It’s your turn now Marcus,” Maximus decreed, “fuck your cum into her.”

Marcus was a good soldier, never one to disobey an order so his hips obediently picked back up their bruising pace as Lucilla clung to him, eyes rolling back in her head as the pressure began to build deep in her core once more. “Fuck, my Lady! You feel so fucking good,” Marcus groaned into the crook of her neck. He wished he could mark her. Send her back to her husband covered in him. The mind for her safety more than his own holding him back. Instead he contented himself with peppering her neck with gentle kisses as his cock pounded relentlessly into her.

“Tell me Marcus was I right?” Maximus hummed in his ear, his hand running down his back to his buttock, giving it a firm squeeze “is her pussy worth dying for?”

“Fuck yes!” Marcus yelled, “I need it again, tell me I can have you again?” he begged, his lust blown eyes locking with Lucilla’s, wide and pleading, his earlier reservations standing no chance against the power of her remarkable cunt.

“Yes, please Marcus! Give me your cum and you can have me again.”

With two more snaps of his hips Marcus came with a roar, his back arching and his head falling back on his shoulders as he pumped her full. The feel of his hot cum inside her pushed her over the edge once more and she clenched around him, fully milking his cock to the last drop.

Sated and spent he collapsed on top of her, drawing a small “oof” of surprise from her followed by a chuckle. He smiled dopily into her chest, still coming down from his high.

He didn’t move until Maximus finally guided him to roll off her onto the bed. There was an unseemly squelch as his cock pulled out of her pussy, his spend leaking out of her now she was no longer plugged. Maximus couldn’t help himself from leaning over and taking Marcus’s softening cock in his mouth. He cleaned off the mixture of cum and slick from it with his tongue before pulling off and giving the tip a little kiss, making Marcus hiss with oversensitivity.

“Delicious,” he declared before gently wiping both of them over with damp cloths and climbing into the bed beside Lucilla so she was sandwiched between them, giving her a quick kiss on the back of the neck.

“So you will do this for me Marcus? You will take care of Lucilla’s needs while I am gone? Protect her and my child.”

“I will brother. I swear it,” Marcus answered. “As long as she is willing to share you when you return.”

Tagging some folks who showed interest in the WIP, let me know if you want to be removed. @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @baronessvonglitter @josephquinnswhore @604to647 @magpiepills @pedrosyouknowwhat